Misadventures Of The Mojave
by XxKonspiracyxX
Summary: Vegas' only hope is the cruel and merciless courier. Maybe on her quest to win Vegas, she'll rediscover the compassion that she lost when she left the Capitol Wasteland, and perhaps repair her broken sanity while she's at it. Two to the head, but one gets up. Ring-a-ding-ding, baby. Showtime!
1. Kick In The Head

_Attention, readers!_

 _This story is somewhat of a sequel to my Fallout 3 story, Legacy of the Capitol. It's not absolutely essential that you read Legacy of the Capitol before reading this story, but you will understand my courier much better if you do. But if you plan to read both stories, I recommend reading Legacy of the Capitol first, because Misadventures Of The Mojave will contain story spoilers for Legacy Of The Capitol. Also, one of the main characters in this story will be a companion from a very popular and wonderfully made mod for the pc version Fallout New Vegas. Those of you who play Fallout on playstation or x-box will not know who Niner is, only pc players or AlChestBreach fans might recognize him. I will be using some of the stories from a select few mods for Fallout new Vegas, as well as making a lot of this up as I go along - and I would very, very, VERY much appreciate feedback on both of my Fallout stories, both compliments and critique (as long as you're polite). Enjoy!_

* * *

Why were the nights always so restless?

The sun was gone... the sky no longer bright, the clouds thickening, darkening, as a radioactive rain began to drizzle...

 _Am I in the Capitol?_

No... she couldn't be in the Capitol. Sandra had left the Capitol Wasteland four years ago.

 _No,_ Sandra thought frantically as she looked around the ruins of DC. _I don't want to be here. No... not again..._

The purifier in the Jefferson Memorial exploded.

"No!" Sandra screamed. Somehow, she was standing at the purifier and in the middle of Point Lookout's deepest swamp at the same time. The hallucinations she'd had in Point Lookout returned to her; suddenly, Mr. Burke was standing at the edge of Megaton's bomb again, begging her not to leave the Capitol...

She fell to her knees, but her legs didn't sink into the swamp water like she expected.

Now, Sandra was kneeling on a hard surface of desert dirt. This was different; the dream changed completely. The illuminating tower on the New Vegas strip was visible shining off in the far distance, brightening the night sky like a star all its own. But Sandra was nowhere near Vegas. She sat in the dirt in the center of a small graveyard. The Great Khans exchanged glances with each other, while a stranger in a checkered suit finished his cigarette, dropped it on the ground, and stepped on it. He then flipped open a lighter and lit a fresh cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the wind as one of the Khans continued to dig a fresh grave nearby.

Their voices echoed from what sounded like miles away.

"You got what you were after, so pay up."

"You're cryin' in the rain, paly."

"Hey, guess who's wakin' up over here." One of the Khans looked at Sandra.

"Time to cash out." The suited stranger said.

"Will you get it over with?" Another Khan grumbled.

The suited man held up a finger. "Maybe Khans kill people without lookin' 'em in the face, but I ain't a fink. Dig?"

 _Am I awake yet?_ Sandra wondered. _Or is this still a dream?_

Underneath the ropes on her wrist, she was still able to see the burn that she'd gotten during the war for the purifier against the Enclave four years ago. That was a scar that would never go away.

"You've made your last delivery, kid." The suited man said, placing the Platinum chip in his suit's inner pocket, then pulling out a sleek nine millimeter pistol. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene. From where you're kneeling, must seem like an eighteen karat run of bad luck."

He held up the glistening gun, enabling Sandra to stare down the barrel.

"Truth is..." He uttered. "The game was rigged from the start."

 _BANG._

* * *

Everything blurred. Something overhead was spinning... spinning, like a fan... it _was_ a fan...

Sandra finally blinked herself awake, fighting off a massive migraine and forcing herself to sit upright.

The first thing she noticed was the jagged burn mark around her wrist.

She often found herself staring into that scar without meaning to.

"Well... you're awake. How 'bout that." A voice said. "Easy there, easy. You've been out cold for a couple of days now. Why don't you relax a little... get your bearings."

Sandra turned her head, meeting eyes with a friendly looking doctor that she'd never seen before. The air hit her athletic body as soon as she sat up; she was wearing nothing but her under garments.

"Your name." The doctor said. "Can you tell me your name?"

"S... Sandra." Sandra replied skeptically, extending her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Not the name I'd have picked for you, but if that's your name, that's your name. I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings." The doc said, politely holding out a hand and lifting her to her feet. "Now, I hope you don't mind, but I had to go rootin' around in your brain to get all the bits of lead out. I did alright, I think, but you're gonna be flashin' a pretty deep scar on your face from now on. Take a look, tell me if I left anything out of place."

Doc held up a small mirror in front of Sandra.

Her roundish face looked the same, her young skin still pale and slightly weathered, her eyes an endless ocean of blue, and her short neck-length hair still shining its usual crimson red. Her forehead, however, now carried a small, thick scar from where the bullets had penetrated her skull.

"Looks alright." Sandra ran two fingers over the fresh scar. "Actually, it looks pretty cool..."

Doc let out a laugh. "Heh. Good to know. Now, I hope you don't mind, but I went through your belongings a bit... thought it might help me find some of your kin, but all I found was some delivery order about a Platinum chip."

"My shotgun... where's my shotgun?" Sandra remembered, feeling anxious. "The shotgun, the clunky one... I carry it everywhere... have you seen it?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. It was next to your old satchel lying around up at the graveyard." Doc replied, bending over and retrieving Sandra's belongings from behind the nearest metal shelf. "Never seen a shotgun like this one. Looks a little bit like a riot shotgun to me, but hey, what do I know. I ain't much of a gun man."

Doc handed Sandra the large shotgun, as well as her bag of belongings.

"Thanks." Sandra said with a sigh of relief. She held the shotgun close as if she was hugging an old friend. "This is a combat shotgun. They have a lot of these out on the east coast."

"The east?" Doc raised his eyebrows. "You came from all the way out east? Goodness."

"Eh. I've been living out west for four years now. Feels like a lot longer, honestly." Sandra shrugged.

Doc escorted her to the vigor tester machine, where Sandra discovered that her intelligence was higher than that of most wastelanders. Afterwards, he administered a quick psychological examination before giving her a vault suit to wear and showing her to the door.

Sandra got herself dressed in the bathroom before Doc would see her out. It felt very strange to be wearing a vault suit again.

"Here you go." Doc said, handing her a familiar device. "I grew up in one of them vaults. This here's a Pip-Boy 3000. I got no reason to have it now, but you might have use for such a thing. It'll help you keep track of everything, even your health."

"I..." Sandra gazed into the Pip-Boy almost thoughtlessly. "Um... thanks."

She snapped the Pip-Boy onto her arm. The extra weight on her left arm wasn't something that she was accustomed to anymore.

"Now that metal fella, Victor, he's the one who dug you outta that grave and brought you up here in the first place. He's still rollin' around town now, if you wanna speak to him." Doc told her. "Good luck out there. I put a few extra caps in your bag, just to get you wherever you're goin'. Now, be safe... and try not to get killed anymore."

"Thanks for patching me up, Doc." Sandra replied.

"Eh, don't mention it. It's what I'm here for. Feel free to drop by any time." Doc smiled, gave her a wave, and moseyed off to his living room.

Sandra watched him for a moment before deciding to leave the house. _He grew up in a vault too? I wonder why he left. Probably not for the same reasons I did..._

The sunlight nearly blinded her when she stepped outside.

The town of Goodsprings appeared oddly beautiful, like a peaceful scene from an old western movie. Not at all like the towns in DC's wasteland...

Upon gazing into the sun, Sandra felt a shiver slither down her spine. Charon's combat shotgun lie on her shoulder, and she hugged it with one arm as she walked into the town. She didn't know it now, but this day would mark the beginning of numerous adventures and unforgettable experiences that would shape the Mojave in ways she could scarcely comprehend.


	2. Niner

Sandra spoke briefly with the cowboy robot before hitting the saloon.

Inside, she met a girl named Sunny Smiles, who seemed to be the natural survivalist out of all the towners. The woman behind the counter, Trudy, had just finished an argument with a stranger in a blue jumpsuit when Sandra sat at the bar. Sandra didn't bother with the argument. It was none of her business. She only wanted a drink.

After the stranger left the saloon, Trudy returned to her spot behind the bar.

"Well, you've been causing quite a stir." She said to Sandra. "Not often we get a last minute save like you. Sorry for the commotion. Joe Cobb's been harassing the town along with his gang of goons. Want a drink?"

"I need to know about the men who tried to kill me. Did they stop by here? Did they say where they were headed?" Sandra inquired.

"They kept talking about Vegas, but the guy in the checkered coast kept shush-ing them." Trudy responded. "I'm not sure if that's where they were actually headed, or how they planned to get there. Why, you going after them?"

Sandra blinked. _Of course I'm going after them. That fucker tried to kill me. I'm gonna find him and twist a knife in his stomach._

"Yeah. I am. Can you tell me anything else?"

"Not really. One of those Khans knocked my radio over, _by accident,_ and it won't play anymore. But other than that... that's all that really happened."

Sandra repressed a scoff. _I don't give a shit about your radio, lady._

"Are you thirsty? I can wet your whistle." Trudy said.

"Yeah. I just want water." Sandra answered shortly, hoping to hydrate herself and get out of this town as soon as possible. The people here were nice and all, but they acted so friendly about everything, it unnerved her. She didn't much like being around people anymore if she could help it.

It was strange to think that Doc and the other towners had taken her in so willingly. The act was an oddly kind thing to do on their part. It wasn't the sort of thing that most people in the wasteland would care about... taking care of a random injured stranger...

Sandra didn't expect random acts of kindness from others. That was one of the reasons she decided to become a courier. That way, she had no ties to anyone, no alliance to any faction, and no reason to worry about getting killed in a senseless feud of some kind. But, apparently, even the profession of couriering wasn't safe from third party warmongers. Sandra had been carrying something valuable in her last delivery, a Platinum Chip that someone else was willing to kill her for - and now, she was wrapped up in the middle of something against her will.

Sandra finished her water and visited the market next to the saloon, where a man named Chet was selling a lot of merchandise on sale. So, Sandra was able to purchase a black fitted hoodie, a pair of brown cargo pants, some new sunglasses, and a pair of leather fingerless gloves. When she was finished changing into her new outfit, she chowed down on a stick of iguana right before she marched outside and headed towards the road south. She'd traveled a lot in the passed four years; the road south was probably safer than the road north, if the rumors she'd heard were correct.

Further down the road stood a stranger in a green sports jacket, with two white lines down either sleeve. He wore a red bandanna, a bullet proof vest beneath his jacket, and boxing tape over each of his hands. His short, dark hairs were sticking up from behind his bandanna, but the cloth kept them away from his face. The guy shook his fist at a motorcycle, which had broken down in the middle of the street.

"Why ain't ya..." He rambled. "No... is that thing supposed to be... auugh..."

Sandra almost walked passed him, like she always did to everyone, but for some reason or another, she stopped.

"What's up?" Sandra asked him.

"Ah... it's just a little bike trouble. No biggie." The guy responded in an accent Sandra had never heard before.

"Any idea why?" Sandra wondered, glimpsing at the old motorbike.

"Well... the rear stabilizer's kinda loose, but that shouldn't cause any real problems... uhm... I dunno. It could be anything." He replied with a shrug.

Sandra knelt beside the bike and hammered her fist on the gas tank twice. It echoed with a couple of hollow _clank's._

"You're out of gas." Sandra told him with a deadpan tone.

"Oh. Magic." He sighed. "Well, c'mon then. I guess we gotta find a gas station, don't we?"

Sandra blinked. "We?"

"Yeah, we." He repeated. "Like, you and me, you dig? Where's the nearest gas station?"

"Um... Goodsprings, but..."

"Alright, let's go."

Sandra let out a cloud of breath, then began leading the stranger back up the road towards Goodsprings.

 _That's what I get for stopping,_ she thought irritably. _I can't just be left alone, can I? Jesus._

The sunset had started, the sky fading a series of reds, oranges, and purples. Sandra wouldn't get to Primm before nightfall at this rate.

Sandra and the stranger entered the town and climbed the hill towards the empty gas station. The pumps were disconnected, and most of the vital parts were missing entirely.

"So this is the... but where do I put the... huh." The guy said, looking around. "You sure this is the right place?"

"Uh, yeah. It's the only gas station around for miles." Sandra answered.

"Hm. Y'know... I don't think they're open." He said.

Sandra raised her eyebrows at him. _They haven't been open for two hundred years, you dipshit._

The stranger waltzed up the the door of the small building and slowly pushed it open.

"That's close enough." Another man said from inside. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

Sandra peered into the building from over the stranger's shoulder. A second stranger was huddled in the back of the building, pointing a pistol at both of them.

"We're not enemies, if that's what you're asking." Sandra told the second stranger.

"Sorry about the gun. You just caught me off guard, that's all. Joe Cobb's been sulkin' around town and trying to find me." The man said. "Name's Ringo. Nice to meet you. I shoulda' figured that you weren't Joe Cobb. He wouldn't travel this deep into town. He's probably afraid I'll snipe him from one of the windows... and he's right."

"Oh, okay... so you _don't_ run the gas station." The stranger in the sports jacket said. "Well... I'm all out of ideas..."

Sandra thought about offering to help Ringo somehow, but she decided against it. This wasn't her problem. She just wanted to get to Primm, find a hotel room, lock herself inside, and sleep for as long as she could.

"Hey, d'you wanna go for a drink?" The stranger asked Sandra. "Saw this place when I was riding down the I 15, I wanted to check it out. C'mon... it ain't far."

Without waiting for her to answer, the stranger ran off, waving for her to follow.

"What..." Sandra uttered, jogging after him. "Where the hell are we going? I have places to be, dude! What the hell!"

Sandra found herself running to keep up with the guy's wide strides. They left town and ran into the desert, and after a few minutes, they approached the gigantic cross-shaped memorial that overlooked the east side of the Mojave. The guy climbed the stairs and gazed over the wasteland with a smirk forming on his face.

"What did I say, man, what did I say? Told you this place'd be good." He said.

Sandra appeared by his side, panting and scowling at him.

"What's your drink, pal?" He asked her, reaching into his bag and pulling out three small liquor bottles, all of varying colors and labels.

Sandra stared at him for a moment. She contemplated merely storming off and leaving the stranger to his own devices, but now, he was offering her free liquor...

"Anything strong." Sandra replied, sitting on one of the stairs beside him.

"There, go on, get that down ya." He handed her a bottle of whiskey. "Yeah, I like this place. Some night before I leave, I'm just gonna come back here and watch the sunset... nice place to wind down, y'know."

He took a swig of rum.

Sandra ingested a gulp of her whiskey.

They both watched the scenery quietly for a moment.

"Who are you, anyway?" Sandra questioned.

"Name's Niner." The guy named Niner responded. "I'm kind of a... drifter."

"Yeah? Why'd you come to the Mojave?"

"Why else? I'm on my way to Vegas."

Sandra pondered on this. Trudy said that her checkered suited assailant had been talking about the strip. It was very possible that she, too, would have to make her way to Vegas in order to find him.

"Me too." She said.

"Really... well ain't that a coinkidinks." Niner said. "So, whaddo people call you?"

"Sandra. My name's Sandra."

"Hmn... nah, I don't like it. It's too hard to remember."

"Seriously?"

"Don't you got a nickname?"

"No."

"Well, you're probably gonna need one, with... y'know... a name like that."

"What? But your name's just a number."

"Niner _ain't_ a number... it's a... uhm... quit asking questions. We're on to you now."

"That wasn't a question..."

"C'mon, throw me a bone. People don't call you _anything_ else?"

Sandra thought about it.

"Some people call me Courier Six." She told him.

"Six." Niner said. "Yeah... that works. Six. Alright, Six, back to business. What're we gonna do about my bike?"

"Well, someone has to have gas." Sandra replied. "I'm guessing you've just been getting by on salvaged fuel... but nobody actually _makes_ gasoline anymore. You're gonna be less and less likely to find any gas the more you salvage it. There can't be much of it left, especially not around here."

"Yeah. 'Specially not here. These people don't even got shoes." Niner said, glimpsing towards the town. "We'll have to check at Primm, then. Ain't it just down the road?"

"Sure is." Sandra nodded. _Finally, I can get to Primm and relax for the night._

"Okay, let's head out then. Let's head back to my bike first. Just gotta grab a few things." Niner reached his feet.

As the two of them trekked off towards the town, the members of Goodsprings gathered outside of the buildings, their guns drawn and their faces sour.

Neither of them were aware of the danger they were about to stumble upon.


	3. Nostalgia

"The hell...?"

Sandra squinted down the road. Sunny Smiles, as well as Trudy, Chet, and an old man carrying dynamite were gathering with other towners around the edge of the town. Down the hill, Sandra was able to see Niner's bike in the near distance; the only reason she was able to see the bike in the darkness was because it had been lit ablaze. The motorcycle was entirely consumed in flames now.

"Uhm..." Niner said, strolling closer and narrowing his eyes at the bike. "Was it on fire when we left?"

"No." Sandra replied emptily. "No it wasn't."

Sandra and Niner stood nearby the other towners for a brief moment, just before a few shadowy figures emerged from behind the rocks and trees yonder. At first, Sandra thought that they were mere raiders - but on closer inspection, she concluded that they weren't raiders or fiends. There were about five of them, two of them carrying firearms, and they all wore blue jumpsuits and had dynamite strapped to their belts.

 _Wait a minute,_ Sandra thought. _That guy we met at the gas station, Ringo - these must be the guys who're after him._

One of the jumpsuited Powder Gangers tossed a stick of dynamite, causing a small explosion in the heart of the town. Gunfire ensued; Niner pulled the large firearm off of his back and opened fire immediately, while Sunny and Trudy advanced forward near him.

Sandra, who was still holding a nearly full bottle of whiskey, upturned the bottle and chugged almost all of the liquor in a few long gulps. She then threw the glass bottle onto the pavement, yanked out her gun, and prepared for battle.

The Powder Ganger in the thickest armor charged forward. It was the same man who had been arguing with Trudy earlier in the day. Joe Cobb.

When Sandra turned her head, she met eyes with Ringo, who had joined the fight against his enemies. Joe Cobb was practically stampeding towards Ringo, dodging gunfire and his comrades' flying dynamites as he did.

"Motherfucker." Sandra snarled, lifting her combat shotgun.

 _BANG, BANG BANG._

The first shot hit Joe squarely in the chest, and the second two were simply for pleasure. Sandra smirked when Joe's eyes tore themselves open, his body now experiencing a nearly inconceivable amount of pain. His torso flashing open holes and pouring blood, his mouth agape and his muscles failing to function, Joe Cobb collapsed onto the pavement. He was dead within the minute.

Ringo stumbled backwards a few steps, staring at Joe's body with a look of astonishment, then glimpsing at Sandra.

Sunny, Trudy, and Niner finished off the rest of the Powder Gangers. A tense silence loomed over the town in the minutes following.

"Well, that was fun." Sunny said. "I think I'm ready for a drink now. Enjoy the rest of your stay, Ringo."

Sunny and the others headed towards the saloon without bothering to clean up the corpses. Ringo didn't follow them right away.

"You saved my ass. I owe you a huge favor for that." Ringo approached Sandra and handed her a small sack of caps. "These are Crimson Caravan funds, but they'll understand when I explain the situation to them. Thanks a lot for that. You didn't have to get involved. I appreciate that you did."

Sandra stared at him, her shotgun dangling by her side and her face blank.

"Don't mention it." She told Ringo.

Ringo gave her a salute, then turned and headed towards the saloon with the others.

Sandra watched him for a few seconds, then turned to speak to Niner. Niner wasn't by her side anymore, though; he was standing far down the hill next to his destroyed bike, looking noticeably frustrated.

"What the hell, man? What... wha... aaaugh..." Niner grumbled.

Sandra stepped around the bodies of the Powder Gangers and approached Niner.

The heat from the bike's flames warmed both of their legs, now that they stood so close to it.

"Sorry about your bike." Sandra said, unknowing what else she could say.

"Ugh... don't go actin' like it was your fault, okay?" Niner sighed. "Ah, whatever. I need something to take the edge off."

Niner then pulled out a syringe from his satchel and eased the needle into his inner arm, injecting himself with a chem that Sandra secretly recognized.

"What's that?" Sandra asked, knowing very well what it was.

"Steady, man. Why, you after a hit?" Niner replied.

Sandra, who had just inhaled a large amount of whiskey, thought it best not to take any more depressants tonight.

"No thanks. That's all you."

"Your loss. Ah yeah... that's the good stuff." Niner smiled, then threw the empty syringe into the dirt. "You know what? It was a shitty bike. Always lettin' me down. Nah, I don't need it. See, all I need is you, Six. See you and me - we're gonna make it to Vegas, even if we have to walk. Am I right? What d'you say, Six? You and me?"

Sandra stared at him for a moment. It was true that traveling alone kept her from attaching herself to anyone else, kept her slate clean and her mind clear, and it meant that she'd never have to worry about commitments, factions, or any other conflicts or complications that came from human companionship... but, after being shot in the head and buried alive, as well as many other dastardly things that had happened in the last four years, Sandra suspected that traveling alone might not have been the safest option for her. Having a companion who seemed to have a fair bit of fighting experience - like a street smart junkie - might be exactly the thing she needed right now, while she walked a dangerous path of revenge.

"Me and you." Sandra agreed. "Yeah. I think we should travel together."

Niner nodded. "Lead the way, man."

And so, they ventured a little ways down the street and left the bike to smolder in the fire.

About halfway to Primm, Sandra decided to make camp at a nearby abandoned trailer. Thankfully, the trailer contained two filthy mattresses instead of just one. They'd be able to sleep here for the night. Sandra tossed her bag onto one of the mattresses just before approaching a pile of sticks outside, which had undoubtedly been used as a campfire by the trailer's previous inhabitants.

Sandra placed her shotgun beside her leg and gazed into the lifeless fire pit. It'd been a long time since she spontaneously decided to help someone in need. When she'd seen Joe Cobb pursuing Ringo, a rage sparked in her... it was a familiar feeling, one she used to feel constantly, one that once motivated her more than anything else in the world. It was a protective sort of feeling, a feeling that made her feel infuriated to know that the world was inhabited by anyone who was disloyal, or greedy, or power-hungry, or selfish. Sandra saw that Ringo was about to be killed by one of these morally-lacking, empty, soulless individuals - and she reacted without a second's hesitation. That was something the old Sandra would do. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to save someone...

Her thoughts became hazy, her vision softening and her breaths growing deeper, and slower. The alcohol was in full effect now; it always made her feel more at ease than anything. Sandra hated the taste of most liquors, but if she had some cold water, or a healthy dose of adrenaline, she wouldn't mind enduring the taste if she could get the effects.

"You ever have a pet?" Niner asked, sinking down beside her and placing his cigarette lighter in the pile of sticks. He started a small fire and tossed a small splash of vodka onto the flames, making them flare up and grow a little. "I had a mantis once. Senior Slicey Hands. He was like a green dog that clicked and scared the fuck outta people."

"I had a pet yao guai once, a long time ago." Sandra responded.

"Ahhh, man. Sounds like you'd have to keep that thing in check, or it'd eat ya' in your sleep."

"Nah, not really. It was a cub. It was a little yao guai. He was like a dog to me."

"I like dogs. You ever been to Denver, Six? Strange place. Everyone lives in the sky. This one time, a guy got drunk and fell off, and he got eaten by dogs. Whole city's full of dogs."

"Yeah... Dog City Denver." Sandra said distantly, staring into the flames.

"You mind if we stop at the Mojave Outpost tomorrow? I got a little business to take care of there." Niner said.

"It's a good thing we aren't taking the road north, then..."

"Ahhh, that's bat country, tellin' ya. Rode down that way. Almost got raped by giant lizards. Had to spend three days hiding out in some tower, till they got bored and wandered off."

"That sucks. But uh... yeah... we can stop at the Mojave Outpost tomorrow. That's fine. We'll need to make stops and grab some food along the way anyhow."

"Great. It won't take long. Promise."

They didn't stay awake for very long. Niner was the first out of the two to fall asleep. After God knows how long of staring into the campfire, Sandra finally crawled onto her mattress, snuggling beside her shotgun and pondering on a lot of flashbacks that hadn't burdened her until recently. Images of Denver played through her mind as she drifted into a light, anxious sleep.


	4. Kids Will Be Skeletons

Sandra lie on her mattress for a while after waking up at the crack of dawn.

The alcohol did well to keep the bad dreams away, but now, she had to use the bathroom. She rolled onto her side, wincing and wishing she could lie in bed forever. But she'd wanted to get to Primm last night. They needed to head out as soon as possible if she wanted to stay on her suited assailant's tail.

Sandra hopped out of the trailer and wandered off to find a bathroom spot before Niner would wake up. Afterwards, the two of them set off towards Primm. When they approached the town, Sandra noticed that Niner was wearing something on his face, something she didn't notice the night before.

"What's that thing?" Sandra asked, pointing to the small microphone that extended along one of his cheeks.

"What, this thingy? It's uh... it's a headset." Niner replied as he retrieved another headset from his satchel and handed it to her. "Here, I got a spare on me. I always break 'em for some reason. Put this on, and we can both communicate wherever we are."

"Cool." Sandra gave him an impressed nod, fixing the headset onto her ear and allowing the mic to brush against her jaw. "This is pretty tactical. I like it."

They approached the entrance to Primm, where an NCR trooper intercepted them.

"Hey, where the hell do you think you're going? Primm is off limits." The trooper said.

"Oh yeah? The NCR is running little independent towns now? Just gonna march in and take over and tell all the travelers to fuck off? Screw you, man. I can take care of myself." Sandra snarled at the trooper. "You're not in charge of this town. You can't just turn people away. The Mojave Express is stationed in Primm - and I'm one of their couriers."

"Tch. It's your ass. Don't say you weren't warned." The trooper responded, scowling and marching back to his post.

"Don't like the NCR, eh?" Niner said while they strolled into town. "Yeah, I got a few problems me'self with the not-so-humble republic."

"I hate them." Sandra mumbled. "They're just killers playing politics, passing laws to make their crimes legal while demonizing everyone else. They kill first and ask questions later. Oh, and anyone they take alive is thrown in jail and forced to do hard labor for the NCR. Yeah, real stand-up government. They make me sick. They remind me of the Enclave..."

"The En-what?"

"The Enclave."

"The who now?"

"The _Enclave,_ the government before the war. You haven't heard of them?"

"How would I have heard of 'em if they were around before the war, Six?"

"Because there are Enclave remnants alive today... and..."

Sandra's sentence got away from her. On the east coast, eyebots hovered around in every town, and because of the old radio station, everyone in the Capitol knew of the Enclave. But out west, the Enclave seemed to be more like an urban legend or a fabled fairy tale than an actual establishment that once reigned supreme. Sandra could hardly imagine how the Enclave, who turned out to be such a monumental threat in the Capitol, was almost completely unheard of here on the west coast.

Sandra led Niner into town after dropping the conversation. It wouldn't matter if she'd rant about her hatred for most forms of authority. It'd be a pointless thing to do...

The main street of the town had a few corpses lying on the pavement. There were human shaped shadows moving around on top of the broken roller coaster across the street, but none of them were giving Sandra or Niner any trouble. Not yet, at least.

"More escaped convicts from that NCR prison, looks like." Niner muttered. As Sandra pushed open the doors to the casino, Niner followed, and he started to sing a song in a muffled, amused voice, which sounded a lot like _"I fought the law, and I won..."_

Sandra spoke to Johnathan Nash, who ran the Mojave Express in Primm. The courier discovered that, not only did the previous courier six cancel right before Sandra's strange delivery, but the man who had shot her - a man who was apparently the top chairmen of the Tops, who's name was Benny - visited Primm just a few days ago. So, after grabbing a few clean waters and stowing away a bottle of vodka for later, Sandra and Niner left Primm and began their walk to the Mojave Outpost.

The road was long, quiet, and empty.

The hill leading up to the Outpost was enormous, and at the top was what appeared to be two giant statues stuck in the posture of shaking hands. It cast a massive shadow over Sandra and Niner when they finally reached the Outpost's entrance.

"God damn, would you lookit that giant dick-wavin' statue?" Niner said. "NCR, humble as always."

The Outpost had a few soldiers and a caravan wandering about inside, but nobody was traveling in or out along the main street. That was a red flag to Sandra; either something was making the roads dangerous enough for the NCR to order their men to stay put in the Outpost, or nobody was entering the Outpost because one of their usual routes might've been compromised. A road leading into an Outpost like this one shouldn't be empty. Something was wrong.

"What's with all the lookin' mister lookin'?" Niner said to one of the soldiers in passing. "Eyes forward, soldier boy. Forward march."

Sandra shot him a smirk. Niner seemed like a funny guy. Being around him put her in a rather good mood, for some reason...

"I gotta meet a guy behind the barracks." Niner said. He marched in through the metal gate and made for the back of one of the buildings.

Sandra sighed and looked around. With nothing to do while Niner was gone taking care of his mysterious errand, Sandra walked up one of the planks that led up to the roof of the barracks, where a very pale woman with a ranger's hat was watching over the Mojave with a pair of binoculars. Sandra only climbed to the roof to see the scenery' she didn't expect someone else to be up here.

"You're a new face. Don't get many of those here anymore. You a courier?" The ranger woman asked, turning to her. "If so, I have a job for you."

"Depends on the work." Sandra shrugged.

"I think there's trouble in Nipton. No traffic in from that way, and I can see smoke from the town." The ranger said. "It's not the friendliest place around, but we're in trouble if something bad's happened down there. Think you can hoof it to Nipton and scope out the town?"

"Sure. I'm going that way anyway. I'm not sure when I'll be able to report back to you, though." Sandra replied.

"Good. One more thing - if there's trouble in Nipton, just come back here and tell me." The ranger added. "I'm asking for eyes and ears, not your life. Don't bother fighting anyone on the spur of the moment, alright?"

Sandra nodded. _You don't have to pretend like you care about my safety, lady. You just need me to be in one piece to deliver your information._

Then, Sandra made her way down the plank and glimpsed around again, wondering if this outpost happened to have a bar. It was too early to drink, but the liquor was calling to her nonetheless...

Niner appeared from around the corner of the building. He walked up to her, and if she hadn't imagined it, his eyes seemed to be shifting around and examining every passing soldier in the vicinity somewhat suspiciously.

 _He looks shady,_ Sandra thought. _What's he up to?_

"Okay, Six. It's all taken care of." Niner said quietly.

"What was that about?" Sandra asked.

"Just... stuff... and things." Niner responded, almost whispering.

"Stop fucking with me. What were you doing?" Sandra pestered.

"Stuff... and... things... n-now ain't the time, Six." Niner told her. "C'mon. I gotta head to Nipton next."

"Um, yeah. We were going to Nipton anyway." Sandra said. "I thought we'd find a place to grab a bite to eat before we go... or a drink."

"Nah, I ain't hungry." Niner shook his head. "I wanna take a hit before we go, though. Want a hit?"

"What is it?"

"It's jet. Gets me from point A to point B."

"Yeah, sure." Sandra agreed. Chems weren't a usual habit of hers; she usually relied on alcohol whenever she'd want a chemical escape. But the effects of chems were, despite their expensive nature, quite enjoyable.

They both inhaled a few large huffs from the jet inhalers before discarding them. The sensation of a jet high was comparable to the rush of a Nukacola Quantum. It was what Sandra imagined caffeine to be like if it was amplified in strength three fold.

Sandra ended up lying on her back over top of one of the picnic tables, and Niner sat on top of it, his ass a little too close to her head. But now, Sandra felt so happy and content, she didn't even care.

"I'd like this place if it wasn't crawlin' with soldiers." Niner said.

Sandra folded her arms behind her head and stared up at the sky.

"Hey, do you wanna have some fun?" Niner asked.

Sandra blinked up at him from her lying-up-side-down position. "What kind of fun?"

"C'mon, with me."

Without warning, Niner leaped from the table and grabbed Sandra by the arm. He dragged her behind the main office building of the Mojave Outpost, where a couple of wrinkly NCR uniforms were lying on top of some sarsaparilla crates.

"Here, put this on." Niner grabbed one of the uniforms and tossed it onto Sandra's shoulder.

"Why?" Sandra questioned as she began dressing herself in the armor.

"Just do it. It'll be great." Niner covered his body in the NCR trooper armor as well.

Now, with the two of them dressed like NCR soldiers, Niner marched very slowly out from behind the building with Sandra trailing closely behind him. There was no telling what he was planning, but whatever it was would undoubtedly be something outlandish and ridiculous, and Sandra found herself fighting down the urge to giggle mischievously as they walked passed the other soldiers. They entered the building, and Niner stopped abruptly in front of Sandra inside of the lobby, in plain view of the other soldiers inside.

"Ah, Private Klaxingdale, I see you're here for our important meeting." Niner turned and gave Sandra a very formal salute.

Sandra gulped. _Oh God..._

"Come on, we must find a better place to have our meeting. Can't tell who's a spy these days. Lookin' at you, soldier boy." Niner glared at one of the NCR soldiers nearby. "Anyways... forward march."

Sandra followed Niner into the back hallway. When they reached the back room, Niner pulled something out of his pocket and began fidgeting with it. Sandra recognized it as a holotape, but Niner appeared to be smothering it with glue and duct tape. Then, the holotape began emitting a loud, looping rhythm, and he shoved the sticky holotape under the desk, gluing it in a secure spot. The holotape was playing a repeating song segment, which filled many of the rooms of the office building with _"I've got spurs, that jingle jangle jingle... I've got spurs, that jingle jangle jingle... I've got spurs, that jingle jangle jingle..."_

Niner shot upright and darted out the door.

Sandra went after him.

The two of them bolted out of the office building, dashed around the corner, and hid themselves behind the building before anyone could pursue them.

They both became consumed in breathless laughter for about a minute straight.

Sandra flashed a wide grin. She gazed breathlessly at Niner and waited for him to explain.

"Ahahah... oh man, that went perfectly..." Niner laughed. "I had a lot of time when I was stuck in deathclaw tower. So... I recorded that bit, every time it came on the radio, and I stuck it on a holotape. Oh, man, I used so much glue... they're gonna need dynamite to get that thing out..."

"That's god damn funny!" Sandra grinned, smacking her leg. "That was amazing!"

"You know it." Niner sneered devilishly.

They quickly shed their NCR getup and tried to leave the outpost without being noticed. At the entrance, Sandra began kicking glass bottles down the humongous hill, just to see how far they'd go. Niner started kicking them too; it soon became a competition. When they ran out of loose glass bottles to kick, Sandra climbed into one of the old broken down trucks and began tossing the crates down the hill with all of her strength. There was something strangely satisfying about watching inanimate objects tumble down a very steep hill, breaking apart the entire way down. They both headed for the bottom of the hill, right after Niner pelted a flying raven out of the sky with a large rock. The bird made a comical "SQUACK!" when the rock his its center, then flopped sideways and landed awkwardly on the cement.

Sandra and Niner lost themselves in laughter once again.

As they headed towards Nipton, breaking things and cracking idiotic jokes, Sandra felt lighter than she had in years.

They couldn't have known what disaster awaited their discovery in Nipton, where the Fox of the Legion had just finished slaughtering a wide variety of profligates and crucifying them along the sides of the streets for every new traveler to see. They'd soon find out, though.


	5. The Fox And The Sniper

The scent of burning flesh snapped Sandra out of her thoughts at once.

 _Why do I recognize that scent?_ She wondered as she led Niner into Nipton. _Who's being burned alive in this town?_

The entrance to Nipton was decorated with two red flags that presented a bull symbol, while some of the buildings in town had burned and collapsed, the remains of the structures still harboring a few dying flames. Something terrible happened here...

"Well Christ in a can, what happened here?" Niner said, looking around. "I got told this place was a dump, but this can't be right. C'mon, Six. We're after the mayor."

"I'm pretty sure he's not gonna be here." Sandra replied, staring down the main street at the town hall. "Yeah. Everyone's dead."

"We gotta check the town hall, jus' to be sure." Niner told her.

When they drew nearer to the town hall, Sandra caught sight of a mob of armored tribals marching down the stairs of the place, spreading out and making sure that everyone they had burned was completely dead. Along either side of the street were crosses, from which hung crucified Powder Gangers, who looked as though they all received a huge beating before they were stung up on the wooden planks. They appeared to be near death, and Sandra suspected that moving or interacting with them would probably kill them Still, they were Powder Gangers; it wasn't like Sandra felt sorry for them. Her icy blue eyes scanned over the hanging gangsters as she advanced through town. These were the sort of people who killed the innocent and stole from hard working wastelanders to get by, not to mention capturing random NCR soldiers and torturing them to death. They deserved whatever karma decided to bestow upon them. This horrible fate was something they'd earned in full.

At the head of the pack of Legionaries was a man who looked to be about Sandra's age, though she couldn't completely tell, due to the sporty armor covering most of his body and the coyote headdress shielding his head, as well as the dark goggles that concealed half of his face. The leader of the Legion assassins let a creepish smile emerge upon his face when he caught sight of the two profligates who'd just wandered into town.

Sandra took a quick glance at the burned and mutilated bodies that laid on the stacks of tires in front of the town hall. They gave off a heavy smell, the smell that had lured her here.

 _Oh yeah,_ she remembered, staring at the melted flesh and charred bones. _I've burned people alive before. That's why I recognized the smell. Reminds me of BBQ..._

"Don't worry. I won't have you lashed to a cross like the rest of these degenerates." The dog headed frumentarius spoke to them. "It's useful that you happened by. I want you to witness the fate of the town of Nipton, to memorize every detail. And then, when you move on? I want you to teach everyone the lessons that Caesar's Legion taught here... especially any NCR troops you may run across."

Sandra stood about two yards away from the Fox of the Legion, gazing into him with an unwavering glare. His voice set off a light in her mind; she felt as if she'd heard his voice somewhere before... that calm, smooth, eerie voice... but she couldn't place where...

"Sure." Sandra agreed nonchalantly. "Who are you, anyway?"

The Fox stared blankly at her from behind his darkened desert goggles. This girl seemed unusually unshaken by the horrendous scene before her. Somehow or another, she didn't seem intimidated at all. That was certainly an oddity for the Fox and his Legionaries. Usually, wastelanders would run from them without even being pursued; the sight of the Legion armor alone was usually enough to strike fear into anyone in the wasteland. But now, A girl and a boy stood before him after discovering the aftermath of one of their most successful attacks, looking as unmoved as ever.

"I am Vulpes Inculta, of Caesar's Legion." The Fox answered. "I serve my master as the greatest of his frumentarii."

Sandra nodded. She knew about Caesar's Legion, but she'd only ever had one real run-in with them during her time on the west coast. Ordinarily, the Legion and the NCR were spoken about when wastelanders would make small talk about the politics in the Mojave. It wasn't something Sandra ever paid much attention to. She really didn't care much for the NCR or the Legion. Politics didn't matter to her.

"Vulpes." Sandra repeated, trying to pronounce the name properly. "Alright, Vulpes. I'm curious... what exactly happened here?"

The other Legionaries exchanged subtle glimpses. Even the highest ranking Legionaries didn't refer to Vulpes by his name alone. This girl had a lot of gall. That, or she was simply ignorant of who she was talking to...

But Sandra understood that Vulpes was probably a very important person from the Legion. It wasn't as if she was _completely_ unintimidated by him - she just didn't care if she offended him or not. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it, she figured...

"Nipton was a wicked place. Debased, and corrupt." Vulpes told her. "It served all comers, so long as they paid. Convicts, thieves, NCR troopers, men of the Legion, such as myself... the people here didn't care. It was a town of whores. And for a pittance, the people of Nipton agreed to lead many of my targets into a trap. Only when I sprang it did they realize that _they_ were caught inside it too."

Sandra didn't realize that she was smirking.

"Good work." She responded. "Sounds like they got what was coming to them."

Vulpes blinked.

Niner gave Sandra a slightly stunned look from behind.

The other Legionaries remained speechless.

"Yes, they did." Vulpes said after a brief silence. "As will the rest of the region, in due time. Now go, and teach the lessons you've learned."

"Hang on." Sandra said just when Vulpes was about to leave. "You seem familiar. Have we met before?"

The Legionaries looked at one another again. Vulpes merely glared at her for a few quiet seconds.

"I'm sure that we have. It's a rather large wasteland." Vulpes answered. "The fact that you have survived my presence twice speaks volumes of your good fortune. Try not to waste what time you have left, profligate. Don't take my mercy for granted."

Vulpes and his men turned away and began walking down the street. Sandra watched them for a moment.

Then, Sandra climbed the stairs and pushed open the doors to the town hall with Niner a few feet behind her.

"D'you really know him, Six?" Niner asked her. "Just wondering. 'Cause from what I've heard... Legion don't really treat women like equals, do they?"

"Not really." Sandra told him. "But it's different if they're dealing with outsiders. They treat everyone like trash if they're not Legion. Gender doesn't matter."

"Ah-huh. And that Fox guy... you met him before?"

"I think so."

"Yeah? When?"

"I'm not sure." Sandra lied. The memories of her last encounter with the Legion were as clear as day. It wasn't something that she would ever be able to forget.

Sandra and Niner reached the top floor, where they found Mayor Steyn's office completely empty.

"Ah... well, damn. He ain't here." Niner said. "Well... to be honest... I wasn't all that optimistic to begin with."

"What did you need to see the mayor for?" Sandra asked him.

"Just... stuff... and things." Niner replied.

"It's my business now, Niner. You need to tell me." Sandra ordered. "What's your business with the mayor?"

Niner sighed. "Okay, I guess you deserve to know. I was uhm... making a delivery. Yeah. Making a delivery..."

"Drugs?"

"Maybe."

"Aha... so that's why we had to stop at the Outpost. You were picking up a delivery of drugs to transport."

"Maybe."

"So the NCR supply chems, huh? That's a little messed up."

"Nah, it's just grunts trying to make a little on the side, Six. C'mon, you know how much those guys _don't_ get paid? They hit a lot of smugglers when they're on the road. But not all the chems get cleared. Some of it gets... redistributed... y'know? That's the clever thing about it."

"Huh. So you're a drug runner. You're tagging along with me so you can run drugs."

"No, no man, I ain't running drugs... I mean... it was a light jog on the way here, if anything..."

"Niner, you're a drug runner. You're a drug runner, and you didn't tell me."

"No, I'm a delivery boy. Some days I deliver packages, or mail... and today, yes, granted, I am delivering drugs. But I ain't a _drug runner._ I'm just a courier."

Sandra let out a cloud of breath. "Niner... your business is yours... but if we're traveling together, you can't keep this stuff from me. Alright?"

"Alright, alright. I just needed to do this one drop before we go northways. Just need some gambling money. Did you forget where we're headed?"

"Just this last drop?"

"Just this last drop."

"Last one?"

"Last one, then I'm done. You got my word."

"Alright, good." Sandra said. "So what're you gonna do now? Your package recipient is dead."

"Guess I'll take the chems back to the meet instead of the money. Let 'em know what happened here." Niner replied. "Not like I could've done anything else, is it?"

"Okay. So where's the meet?"

"It's a motel room in Novac."

"Alright. Let's hit the road."

* * *

The walk only took a couple of hours.

Sandra and Niner passed Ranger Station Charlie and entered Novac from the south, following the towering dinosaur until they found themselves at the town's center.

Niner had said a few things occasionally during the trip, but Sandra hardly heard him. Vulpes' face refused to leave her thoughts.

"You call that a dinosaur? I fought bigger lizards with a switchblade." Niner said, staring up at the giant statue.

Sandra turned to him.

"What's with the look, Six? It happened, okay?" Niner said. "Still got the scars."

"Whatever you say. So when's this deal supposed to happen?"

"Fuck that, man. I ain't doing shit today. Let's just get a hotel room and relax. We can deal with the meet tomorrow."

"Okay, sure."

Sandra spotted Victor the securitron standing near the town's entrance. She avoided the robot and entered the office of the motel.

 _Victor's following me,_ she thought. _That can't be good. Guess I'm in the middle of this mess now, whether I like it or not. That's just great..._

Sandra purchased a room from Jeannie May Crawford at the front desk, then marched outside again. Rather than entering their motel room right away, she and Niner strolled around the town and took in the sights. They spent about an hour buying supplies from caravaners, looking around the town for some sort of tourist attraction (there weren't any), and _accidently_ knocking over many of the tools on the shelf outside of the workshop, making a mess that some unknown stranger in the town would eventually have to clean up.

When they finally reached their motel room, Niner claimed a seat at the table and stretched his limbs. He began pulling out a variety of chems from his satchel.

Sandra watched him curiously. She turned on the radio, which was playing _Big Iron,_ then sat across from Niner at the table.

"Denver triple dog." Niner said, holding up two needles and an inhaler in between his fingers. "Jet to take you up, steady to bring you back down, and psycho for the hell of it. You game?"

Sandra hesitated. Taking a bunch of drugs at once was something she'd do, most definitely - she'd done it before, after all - but right now, while they were both staying in an unfamiliar town, at least one of them needed to remain sober and vigilant. It wasn't a good time for her to do something reckless.

"Nah, count me out." Sandra said.

"Guess this is gonna be a one man party, then." Niner replied, pressing the jet inhaler into his face. "Oh well. I'm headed to a new dimension..."

Sandra left the room before having to watch Niner fill himself with chems. Usually, chems didn't bother her. But something about Niner's habit made her uneasy, or worried, even. Why would she worry about him? Why _should_ she worry about him? He was just a random drug-running courier that she met on the road. He was capable of making his own decisions. It didn't make sense for her to concern herself with his health, did it...?

 _Look at you, you're... caring._

The voice of an old friend echoed in her mind as she walked lazily down the stairway. The sun began to set, making Novac look oddly beautiful.

 _You're caring again, my dear. That little foolish streak of compassion never left you, did it?_

"Yeah, well, you'd be a hypocrite to knock me for that, Mr. Burke." Sandra said to herself. "You loved that about me, you jackass."

 _Very true, I did. As did your father. As did Charon. As did everyone around you. And here you are, halfway across the world after leaving them all behind..._

"I didn't leave them behind. Dad and Charon were killed." Sandra replied to the voice. "I left because nobody needed me."

 _I needed you. Bryan needed you. The entire Capitol still needed you. You were their legacy, and you abandoned them._

"Yeah, yeah, I'm terrible. I know. Ask me if I care." Sandra grumbled. "It's not my job to give a shit about a bunch of selfish wastelanders."

As Sandra made her way up the stairs of the Dino-De-Light gift shop, she began second guessing Niner's offer. The voices of her old companions would plague her mind occasionally, and chems or alcohol were usually the only things that could shut them up.

"Welcome to the gift shop." The man behind the counter said. "If you're here for the figurines, you're just in time. We still have a few left."

Sandra shook her head and marched up the nearby stairs. She wasn't interested in buying anything else, she only wanted to explore.

The stairs led to the mouth of the dinosaur statue, which overlooked the entire town. Sandra opened the door and stepped into the dinosaur's mouth, only to find that a disgruntled looking sniper had just made himself comfortable in a sitting position, the barrel of his rifle extending out in between a couple of the large fake teeth.

"Um.." Sandra mumbled awkwardly. "Hi."

"Goddammit, don't sneak up on me like that. What do you want?" The sniper turned his head and looked up at her. He was wearing sunglasses and a red NCR beret.

"Just... looking around." Sandra answered truthfully. "What's up?"

"I think you'd better leave." Th sniper growled, facing away again.

Sandra felt a twinge of anger. "I'm just making conversation, asshat."

"Don't bother. I don't have any friends here."

"Well, I'm not _from_ here."

"No... no you're not, are you?" The sniper stood and slowly turned towards her, giving her an examining stare. "Maybe you shouldn't leave. Not just yet."

Sandra narrowed her eyes at him. "So now you want something from me."

"I need someone I can trust. You're a stranger. That's a start."

"Alright. I'm listening."

"I need you to find something out for me. My wife was kidnapped by Legion slavers one night while I was on watch. They knew what route to take, how to get out, and they only took Carla. Someone set it up. I need to find out who."

"You're trying to track down your wife?"

"My wife's dead. I want the son of a bitch who sold her."

"Wait, how do you know she's dead if she was sold off to the Legion?"

"I know, alright? That's all you need to know."

"Alright, alright. Geez."

"Poke around town and let me know what you find. If you find the person who sold her, bring them out in front of the dinosaur while I'm on duty. I work nights. And here, put on my beret so I know you're standing with him. It'll be our signal. I'll make it worth your while."

"No problem." Sandra took the beret from him. The beret's absence on his head revealed that he was very bald. "What's your name?"

"Craig Boone." The sniper responded. "Go on. We shouldn't speak again until it's over."

Sandra nodded and left the sniper by himself, closing the door behind her and entering the gift shop again to find that the man running it had disappeared, which left the room empty and the radio playing for no one. Sandra lifted the beret and spun it around, studying it closely. The cloth was still warm to the touch, and it smelled of sweat and cigarettes. Sandra guessed that the sniper, Boone, rarely ever removed the beret from his head.

Boone had spoken to her with a low, intense voice, and he looked as though he hadn't had a reason to smile in a very long time. Despite his sour attitude, Sandra felt the need to help him right away. He seemed like the sort of person who'd been down on luck for a while, and after losing his wife to the Legion, he needed a break. He needed some compassion.

 _Compassion, my dear? Remember what happened last time you decided to help some grumpy stranger on a whim? Remember Roy Philips?_

Mr. Burke's voice started invading her thoughts again. Sandra fought down a shudder.

 _Remember helping Roy Philips, only to find that he planned to slaughter everyone in Tenpenny Tower even after a peaceful arrangement had been made?_

"Yes, I remember." Sandra answered aloud. "Doesn't mean that everyone I help is gonna stab me in the back."

 _You'd better be sure, my dear. We only want you to be safe, after all._

"I don't need your help, Mr. Burke." Sandra sighed.

 _You need all the help you can get, kiddo._

This time it was Gob's voice that spoke to her from her subconscious.

"I'm fine, Gob."

 _Listen to her, Gob. She's big and strong. She can take care of herself!_

Bryan Wilks argued with Gob in her mind.

 _Be careful, sweety._ Her father's voice joined in the imaginary conversation. _Just be careful. We only want what's best for you, sweetheart._

"I know, Dad. I know."

 _You'd better know, Mistress._

The final voice to enter her mind was the one that sent a shiver down her spine, the ghoulish, raspy voice of her old best friend.

 _You'd better know,_ Charon scolded. _You'd better know that we care about you. I didn't die in that fucking purifier so you could get yourself killed over something stupid a couple of years down the road. You owe it to me to look after yourself, Mistress. Don't be a fucking idiot._

Sandra opened her mouth, but she couldn't reply to this. Remembering Charon's grumpy voice implanted a thousand uncomfortable feelings in her, rendering her incapable of moving or talking. Maybe this explained why she didn't bother going out of her way to help anyone for the last four years. Doing favors for others and showing compassion always gave her a familiar sensation of contentment, a feeling she once had all the time, when she was traveling the Capitol with Charon by her side...

Resurrecting that old feeling had succeeded in resurrecting the voices in her head as well.

Sandra didn't know how long she stood alone in the middle of the gift shop with nothing making a sound, except for _Johnny Guitar_ playing from the radio on the counter top.

Yes. She was, indeed, _alone_ in the gift shop.

None of her friends were around. Nobody was around.

Sandra was alone, like she had been for four years.

The courier stole a bottle of whiskey from behind the counter and drank the entire thing before leaving the gift shop. The alcohol would drown those damn voices, and it would give her the boost she needed to hunt down the bastard who sold the sniper's wife to the Legion. This would be a fun night.


	6. Too Much Fun

"Oooooh!"

Sandra knelt behind Jeannie May Crawford's desk inside of the motel's office. The office was empty, now that it was nearly midnight, and Sandra, who breached her safe on a whim simply to steal a few caps, happened to find a bill of sale written by a Legionary with a nickname of "Pheonix," and the paragraphs contained a few choice Latin phrases that Sandra didn't understand. But the bill quite literally spelled out that Jeannie May Crawford had sold Carla Boone, and her unborn child, to the Legion. Jeannie May Crawford was busted - and pocketing her savings of caps was icing on the cake.

So, Sandra crept out of the office and slunked around town until locating her house. The courier knocked on the door of her home, and moments later, Jeannie answered it.

"Everything alright? Awfully late to be dropping in like this." Jeannie said, blinking herself fully conscious. "I was finally getting to sleep."

"Hey, there's a dead deathclaw out in front of the dinosaur." Sandra told her falsely. "I don't know where it came from, but if there's deathclaws approaching the town, I think you guys have a problem. Come with me. I'll show it to you. It's huge."

"Oh, okay. I guess I can pop out for a minute." Jeannie stepped outside and closed her door, then followed Sandra towards the dinosaur.

Sandra casually slipped the beret onto her head.

They reached the edge of town. Sandra took a few side-steps from Jeannie, who was looking around in confusion when she noticed that there was no deathclaw in sight.

 _BANG._

Jeannie's head exploded into a mess of gore and bone; the body hit the ground uselessly and flipped over itself, landing at an awkward angle a little ways down the hill.

Sandra erupted with laughter. Jeannie didn't see it coming at all - and to watch her body ragdoll down the hill was priceless!

After a moment of composing herself, Sandra walked around the dinosaur, marched up the stairs, entered the gift shop, and joined Boon in the dinosaur's mouth again. The sniper turned to her slowly, lowering his rifle and letting out a long breath. His grim expression appeared even more disturbed than it had before.

"That's it, then." He said. "How did you know?"

Sandra wiped the smile from her face before meeting his eyes, then slipped a hand into her bag and handed him the crinkled paper she'd stolen from Jeannie's safe. "I found her bill of sale. It had a whole bunch of Latin on it. Legion uses Latin, right?"

"Yeah, they do. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It'd be like them to keep paperwork..." Boone skimmed over the paper intently. "Well... that settles, it, then. Here. For the trouble." He handed her a small cloth sack containing about a hundred caps. "I think our dealings are done here."

Sandra almost took the money without hesitation, but something halted her. She'd wanted to completely sell out the gift shop tomorrow of its best supplies, to buy an assload of ammunition, some liquor, and maybe a chem or two for the road, though for some reason or another, she didn't want to accept the sniper's money now.

"Hey, we both benefited from this. I kinda stole all of Jeannie May's money from her safe while I was there." Sandra said. "I don't need your money. Keep it."

Boone simply glared at her without saying anything.

"I don't think anyone's bothered doing you a favor for free in a long time." Sandra added. "I think you need your money. So, keep it. Have a good night. I hope you get some sleep."

Sandra spun on her heel and departed the dinosaur's mouth, leaving Boone by himself in his sniper's nest.

When she returned to her motel room, she found Niner lying halfway on the table with his eyes mostly closed. He looked as though he was simply sleeping, but the stream of drool escaping the side of his mouth made Sandra wonder if he'd fallen comatose.

Sandra was about to plop onto the bed and take a well deserved nap, now that it was one in the morning, but she couldn't tear her gaze from Niner. Sighing, she made her way over to him and patted him roughly on the face with a few light _smack_ 's.

"Niner?" Sandra said. "Niner, hey, you okay? Wake up you fucking junkie."

"No sir, I didn't take the..." Niner mumbled into his arm. "No... not the dogs...!"

Sandra stared at him. _Fucking idiot. Well, at least he didn't overdose. Guess I don't have to worry._

At that, Sandra climbed into her bed and turned the radio dial. The smooth sound of _Blue Moon_ lulled her into a comfortable sleep as she cuddled into the blankets. It'd been a long time since she had the privilege of lying in a nice, warm bed...

* * *

Dogs.

Snarling, snapping, yelping, foaming...

The visions and sounds flashed through her mind like a holotape stuck on fast forward. Dog City Denver's massive, towering buildings stood over her once again, the entire city filled with the sort of musty air that would rot a human from the inside out if they remained exposed to it long enough. The brownish-orange clouds had mutated the dogs, given them diseases and driven them mad; the creatures roamed the streets of the city, attacking and devouring anyone that crossed their path, and sometimes even killing and eating each other. Sandra had never heard of Dog City Denver, never knew that the City was mostly empty, and what few inhabitants were in the city lived on the rooftops, out of the reach of the rabid mutant animals that ravaged the streets below.

Bite marks.

Bleeding fang wounds.

A sickening smell... the scent of wet, filthy dogs... covering her...

Snarling, snapping, yelping, foaming...

The Denver scavengers arrived in the nick of time. They killed all of the dogs and pulled Sandra to her feet, but they didn't treat her wounds, didn't offer her a stimpack, and didn't help her to walk in order to keep up with them. Her body was bleeding from all over. Sandra couldn't move, couldn't stand, and definitely couldn't fight... she felt as though she might collapse and die at any moment...

The red tribe arrived.

The tribe in black-and-red armor, the red tribe, the one that nineteen-year-old Sandra had never seen before - Caesar's Legion.

Denver sat beside one of the Legion's slave trading routes, and now, they were here to collect more merchandise. More people. More slaves.

The scavengers fought.

The Legion fought.

People began to fall on both sides, some of them slinging machetes or crowbars, others firing their guns.

Sandra grabbed the nearest weapon - the big one, the one that would ensure her victory no matter what.

Her muscles refused to function properly, but somehow, she managed to lift the gigantic metal contraption onto her shoulder.

She fired.

The fantastic nuclear explosion occurred.

The weapon fell from her grasp while an endless ocean of bodies, Legion and profligates alike, were ripped apart at the heart of the miniature holocaust. Sandra's legs screamed at her to fall, to give up, to stop trying to walk, but she still remained standing. Her armored merc adventurer outfit lie tattered and in pieces over her body, almost completely destroyed, while her Pip-Boy began flashing frantically from her arm, attempting to notify her of her injuries and urging her to seek medical help immediately. Sandra didn't have the energy to lift her arm and examine the Pip-Boy. She felt, with every fiber of her being, that the end was here, that death was about to claim her...

Her legs failed.

A hand shot out and grabbed Sandra by the collar of her ruined outfit, hoisting her up and keeping her from falling. Sandra hung uselessly from the man's grasp, her body immobile, bleeding, and broken, while her oceanic eyes rested on the face of the stranger holding onto her, or, at least, what she was able to _see_ of the face... the cheeks... the dark goggles... the dog-shaped headdress... the wicked smile he wore...

* * *

 _Thump._

Sandra jolted at the sound of the noise. She sat upright in bed and glimpsed around the motel room. The windows allowed daylight to invade the room now, while Mr. New Vegas continued talking from the radio, and when Sandra looked down, she realized that the _thump_ she'd heard was caused by Niner falling onto the floor.

Niner's face was halfway buried in the dirty carpet, while his legs stuck partially upright, propped up by the chair legs behind him. He lie at an uncomfortable angle, but due to his unconsciousness, he probably couldn't feel a thing.

Sandra repressed a laugh.

"Alright, come on, get up." Sandra stood and grabbed Niner's arm, pushing him onto his back and examining him. His mouth hung open and he was exhaling a few faint snores. "Wake up, lightweight. Come on, rise and shine. We've got shit to do. Up we go. Up we go!"

Then, Sandra yanked Niner upwards by both of his arms and slung him onto the bed. He now lie crookedly over the bed's edge, still lost in a slumber and entirely unresponsive.

Sandra formed an idea.

Smirking to herself, she picked up her combat shotgun from the nightstand, aimed at the ceiling, and began hammering her finger onto the trigger.

 _BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG._

Niner panicked; he jumped from the bed so abruptly that he slipped on the edge of the blanket, making him fall onto the floor again, his eyes wide and his arms practically flailing on the way down.

Sandra didn't stop firing until the gun was empty. The roof of her motel room was riddled with gigantic gaping holes now, bits of the ceiling crumbling and raining onto the floor from above, and Sandra collapsed onto the bed. Her face turned scarlet as she laughed almost uncontrollably, and she quickly found herself out of breath.

"Not funny, Six!" Niner stood upright and brushed himself off. "Not funny!"

"Well, that's what you get for taking a bunch of drugs all at once!" Sandra said, looking up at him from her lying position. "You slept for an entire day, dumbass!"

"I wasn't _asleep,_ I was... in another zone."

"You were stoned out of your mind. You might as well have been asleep."

"C'mon, Six. How many times 'ave I seen you down a whole bottle of whiskey since we've been on the road? It's the same thing."

"No it's not. I can drink whiskey and still walk and talk afterwards. You basically turned yourself into a vegetable."

"Did not."

"Yuh-huh. And we're supposed to meet some friends of yours here too, aren't we? When is that meeting supposed to happen?"

"Friends? What're you talkin' about... aw... shit, the deal!" Niner smacked his forehead. "Ah, yeah, they should be here by now. C'mon. Let's get this over with."

The two of them left the motel room and walked outside, letting the morning sunlight engulf them both. Niner walked down the balcony and Sandra followed. They both reached the opposite side of the building and ventured down the stairs. Niner stopped at the door to one of the motel rooms, turning to Sandra and holding up a hand.

"I'll take care of it. Wait here for me." Niner told her. "Be right back."

Niner entered the motel room by himself and shut the door behind him.

Sandra leaned on the wall outside, crossing her arms and staring into the sky. The silence that followed Niner's absence made her mind run rampant. The dream reappeared in her thoughts. It'd been a long time since she had a nightmare about Denver, about the scavengers she met and the Legion slavers they'd run into. It was strange that she was thinking of it again after all this time. But after running into Vulpes Inculta in Nipton, seeing his evil smile and watching the Legion leave the town in ruins and the citizens dead in their wake, it made sense that her only other encounter with the Legion was returning to her memory now. Vulpes was the same dog-headed Legion leader that she'd met in Denver four years ago. She was almost certain of it.

But really, it didn't matter much. After all, she had nothing to do with the Legion. The only thing that interested her was finding Benny and planting a combat knife in his gut.

Something inside of the motel room shattered. Sandra was able to hear a couple of muffled grunts from inside.

 _Sounds like they're fighting in there,_ Sandra thought. _Oh, right. Niner wasn't able to get their money from Nipton's mayor. They're probably pretty pissed about that._

A few more loud groans came from behind the closed door. It sounded as though a lot of things were being thrown around the room, too.

Sandra gulped, turning her head and glancing at the door knob.

 _It's not my problem. I'm not getting involved. I don't care._

Niner hit the floor inside, and after a moment of panting, Sandra faintly heard him say "What... I'm supposed to collect from a dead guy?"

Then, Niner let out a pained grunt when one of the drug dealers struck him squarely in the head with a baseball bat.

Sandra stayed board stiff, her back pressed against the wall and her face as unreadable as ever.

 _I'm not getting involved. I'm not getting involved._

Sandra hoped the altercation would stop if she simply waited for a few seconds, but that didn't happen. More things inside of the motel room broke and hit the walls. Niner exhaled another series of moans as the drug dealers continued their beating.

Sandra's nails dug into her palms, her heart beginning to pound and her blood heating up like a stream of fire.

 _Alright, that's fucking enough._

Her anger got away from her; Sandra stepped back and delivered a hard _KICK_ to the door, sending it flying open. Her shotgun drawn and her eyes glowing a fierce blue, she stormed inside, where the two drug dealers stood over Niner, their baseball bats stained with his blood.

 _BANG, BANG, BANG BANG BANG BANG._

The first two shots were to ensure their deaths. The rest were for fun.

Sandra always enjoyed how the power of a combat shotgun ripped through a human body so effortlessly. The two drug dealers crumbled in their stances. They were both dead before they hit the filthy motel room's floor.

Niner sat against the wall, staring up at her and looking stupefied. Sandra had a horrible, icy smirk on her face.

It was obvious to her what had happened; Niner probably could have killed them both by himself, but he didn't want to. He'd decided to take their beating without fighting back, probably in the hopes that he could later keep doing jobs for them. Working for these dealers was most likely Niner's only source of a steady income. But Sandra, on the other hand, had no reason to show mercy to the sorry bastards. Besides, Niner had promised that this would be his last drop - and now, with both of his dealers dead, he would be forced to keep that promise.

Niner's face held a few dark bruises, as well as the rest of his body underneath his clothing, but the most noticeable injury was the open gash on the side of his forehead.

Sandra sighed, attempting to force the adrenaline out of her as quickly as it had come. She let the shotgun hang by her side.

"Something tells me you deserved this." Sandra said. "Are you okay?"

Niner released a few deep breaths before replying. "Heh... yeah... it looks worse than it feels."

There was a small pause.

Niner's eyes drifted over to the fresh corpses lying on the floor.

"Y'know... Six... there's such a thing as overkill." He breathed. "These guys were pricks, but they paid for my meals, mate..."

"You're welcome." Sandra snarled. "Like you wouldn't have done the same thing."

"What, burst in and kill a couple of guys just for the fun of it? I saw that smile on your face, Six. You look like you slept with a hanger in your mouth."

"So what? Yeah, I enjoy killing assholes. So? What of it?" Sandra retorted. "Like I said, you'd do the same thing."

Niner smiled. "Yeah, damn right I would. C'mon... help me up. Ain't too far from Vegas now, eh?"


	7. The Courier And The Junkie

Sandra and Niner spent the day traveling.

By the time the afternoon came to an end, Sandra could see the walls of Vegas in off the distance.

Tomorrow would be the day they'd finally reach it. Even if Benny wasn't in Vegas - she _would_ be. And with an animal like Niner by her side, the two of them would have the opportunity to paint the city red. Regardless of what the outcome of her revenge journey would be, Sandra still carried all of Jeannie May Crawford's motel funds in her satchel; the two of them were going to have a blast when they finally reached the city of sin. Somehow or another, Sandra would find Benny and enact her revenge eventually, but for now, it was nice to focus on having fun for once. Sandra couldn't remember the last time she felt so adventurous.

Sandra and Niner took a break at an abandoned shack on the side of a hill, each of them lying their heads on opposite sides of the lone mattress and singing along to a song that echoed from Sandra's Pip-Boy. There was a list of songs on Doc Mitchell's old Pip-Boy - a collection of mp3's - and they were all songs that neither of them had heard before. They sounded very different from the ones that usually played the radio.

After listening to a song called _Rockstar_ about five times in a row, Sandra and Niner nearly had it memorized. They both sang in unison as they gazed up at the sky, the evening setting in and the stars becoming brighter and brighter as the sun vanished from view.

 _"I'm gonna trade this life, for fortune and fame... I'd even cut my hair, and change my name..._

 _'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars, and live in hilltop houses, drivin' fifteen cars._

 _The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap. We'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat._

 _And we'll hang out in the coolest bars, in the VIP with the movie stars..._

 _Every good gold digger's gonna wind up there, every Playboy bunny with her bleach blond hair..._

 _And well, hey, hey, I wanna be a rockstar..._

 _Hey, heeeey, I wanna be a rockstar..."_

When the song ended, Sandra flipped through the others until she landed on one labeled _AC/DC - Shoot To Thrill._ She listened to it for a moment before sitting up in the dirt, glimpsing around the desert and finally realizing how much time had passed. Night had fallen already. They needed to get moving if they wanted to reach Freeside in time to get some sleep.

Sandra turned off the music.

"Awww, whaddid you turn it off for?" Niner said, sitting up and staring at her. "I wanted to hear that one. It sounded good."

"We need to go. Do you wanna get any sleep tonight, or not?" Sandra replied.

"No." Niner folded his arms. "I wanna hit the town tonight. Fuck sleepin'. Sleepin's for queers."

"What?! We've been walking all day! I'm tired!"

"Me too. That's what the magic's for." Niner pulled a jet inhaler from his bag and twirled it around his fingers. "I got the means to stay awake."

Sandra let out a cloud of breath. "Niner... about the chems..."

"What man, you ain't gonna start nagging me, are ya?" Niner responded.

"It's starting to cause problems." Sandra told him. "Plus, you turned into a drooling mess when you practically drugged yourself into a coma yesterday. That's not good for you."

"C'mon, man. That was just a little screw up. I'll be fine from now on. I haven't taken a hit all day." Niner said. "I think my brain's tryinna' claw its way outta my skull, but I'm sober."

Sandra sighed at him. It wasn't typical for her to lecture anyone on their behavior. She didn't care what anyone did with their lives. But it bothered her to see Niner making such terrible choices and suffering because of them. When did she start giving a shit about him? This wasn't right...

"Alright, fine, do whatever you want. Doesn't bother me." Sandra said, reaching her feet. "Come on."

They walked into the desert, following the towering casino that lit up the entire wasteland.

Sandra sifted through the list of mp3's on her Pip-Boy again.

"Hey, Niner." She said while she walked, hoping to make some small talk. "You weren't born in the Mojave, right? Where did you come from?"

"Hmn? You bored enough to talk about my childhood, Six?" Niner laughed. "Grew up in California. Guess it was pretty comfortable compared to most kids' lives."

"Did you like it?"

"Nah, I hated it. Just being _kept_ like that... it made me uneasy."

"Leave anyone behind?"

"What, like a girl? C'mon man, I ain't the settling type."

"What about friends? Family?"

"Eh, never had much in the way of family. My friends all grew up to be soldiers. Some of them turned into farmers, though. See, that's what the average kid got to look forward to in California. Being a soldier, or being the guy who _feeds_ the soldiers."

"I understand why you left, then..."

"Yeah, it just ain't right... people deciding how your life's gonna turn out for you. I ran away a long time ago. Doubt anyone even noticed."

"What about your family?"

"It was usually just me and my brother. We looked out for each other. He was proud NCR, Mike was. Not like me. Heh... I didn't give a shit."

"How often do you see your brother now?"

"He'd dead, man."

Sandra, who had been fiddling with her Pip-Boy while the two of them strolled through the desert, went quiet for a moment. She didn't dare look him in the eyes. Not yet.

When she finally worked up the courage to face Niner, she didn't stop walking, and she didn't look him in the face; her eyes immediately fixated on the two shining dogtags that rested atop the kevlar vest under his jacket, shimmering under the moonlight from his chest. The dogtags had Mike's name, as well as a few smaller inscriptions, labeled on them. They once belonged to Niner's brother, just like Sandra's shotgun once belonged to her old best friend.

Suddenly, everything fell into place in her mind; Sandra and Niner were both unbelievably reckless and careless. They both had a habit of abusing substances, jumping into physical confrontations, and hurting anyone who dared to challenge or threaten them. The two of them had everything in common. They both lived like they couldn't care less about anything - their health, their morals, or even the wellbeing of others, and they both acted this way for the very same reason.

Sandra and Niner had both lost someone very close to them.

And now, neither of them seemed to care about anything in the world anymore because of it.

Sandra and Niner were the same. Two heartbroken souls who simply didn't care anymore.

The dogtags and the combat shotgun were the same. Both inanimate memories of their lost loved ones.

"I'm sorry." Sandra said in a voice eerily similar to her old one, the voice she once had when she lived as the lone wanderer. It was a genuine, caring voice, a voice that was meant to comfort someone.

Niner's expression became grave.

"He gets sent to some mutant infested shit hole... gets blown up... and they didn't even find most of his body." He told her darkly. "His general gives me his tags, and a pat on the back... like that's supposed to make it all okay."

Sandra watched him quietly, unsure of what to say or how to respond.

Niner shook his head and looked away.

At a loss, Sandra grasped him by the arms and pulled him into a hug.

Niner, who wasn't expecting it, blinked a few times while Sandra wrapped her arms around his neck. Niner returned the hug after a few seconds of hesitation. The two of them stood in the middle of the desert, locked in an embrace for a few silent minutes.

"Hey." Sandra stepped back, placing her hands on his shoulders and meeting his gaze. "Let's both hit the town tonight. We'll have a fucking blast. Alright?"

Niner smirked. "Hell yeah. That'll be awesome."


	8. The Doctor Is In!

Freeside was everything Sandra expected it to be; a slummy town of people who were down on their luck.

Sandra and Niner discovered Mick and Ralph's, then wandered around town until they found a gigantic place called the Old Mormon Fort, which was run by doctors with the Followers of the Apocalypse. The place was filled with medical tents and injured Freeside residents.

"Would you lookit these wimps?" Niner said. "Ugh. Rehab is for queers."

"Shut up and be nice." Sandra smacked him on the arm. "Let's see if we can find a place to leave our stuff. Maybe we can stay in one of these tents."

"Nah. It looks like you have to have a broken leg to get one of these tents, Six. They ain't gonna give 'em to anyone who ain't hurt."

"Okay. 'll break your leg, then."

"Shaddup."

Sandra poked her head into all of the tents. They were all occupied by injured people, just like Niner had predicted, except for one tent in particular; the tent in the farthest right corner had two empty bunkbeds, but the tent was occupied by a blonde doctor who sat at a small table, thumbing through a book about barrel cacti and other plants from the desert. The blonde doctor looked up when he spotted Sandra and Niner leaning into the tent. He pressed his glasses more firmly onto the bridge of his nose with his knuckles, giving them an attempted polite smile.

"Hi. If you need medical assistance, talk to Julie or one of the other Followers." He told them. "I'm just a researcher. Not even a particularly good one."

"Oi mate, how much for a room?" Niner asked. "I mean, those beds look pretty empty. We're gonna need a place to crash in the morning. Y'know... when the partying's over."

"Uh-huh." The doctor replied blankly. "Right. Well. One of them is _my_ bed, but I'm sure Julie won't mind you using the others just for one night. I'm guessing you're both new in town. I've never seen either of you before. Everyone needs help finding a place to stay when they first get to Freeside. It's not the most _warm and welcoming_ type of place, after all."

"Yeah, we can see that." Niner said only halfway jokingly. "Place is a bigger dump town than Novac."

"Thanks for letting us stay here." Sandra told the doctor, placing her backpack on one of the top bunkbeds. "We'll stay out of your way. My name's Sandra, by the way, and this is Niner."

"Arcade Gannon. Pleasure." The doctor replied.

"Lemme take a hit, then we'll head to the Wrangler. Yeah?" Niner said, placing his jet inhaler to his face.

"Oh fine, start the party without me. You better save me some." Sandra joked. She was digging through her backpack, searching for her bag of caps so that she'd have money to spend at the casino. "Hey, doctor man... Arcade... that is your name, right? Do you wanna come with us? You look like you might wanna get some fresh air."

"No thank you." Arcade said, stifling a laugh. "Not my scene, but thanks anyway. I'm perfectly fine back here. Not all Followers are people persons."

"You just gonna be up doing research all night, man?" Niner asked Arcade. "Reading about fruits n' shit?"

"I can treat you if you come along." Sandra added. "Got a little extra money."

"No, really, I'm fine. I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather not." Arcade said to them both. "Have a nice night on the town, you two. Enjoy yourselves. Try not to give us any more injured people or permanently drug-fried junkies to fix up too, if you can help it."

"No promises." Niner saluted. "C'mon, Six, hurry up..."

"Shut up! I need to find my money." Sandra's arm was nearly entirely engulfed in her bag now. "Uhhhm... oh... here it is!"

After finally finding her bag of caps, she turned and faced Arcade Gannon for a moment.

"What kind of research are you doing?" Sandra asked him, squinting curiously at his book.

"Oh, you know. Finding alternative treatments for common illnesses and injuries. Stimpaks out of barrel cacti and other fantastic improbabilities. As far as fruitless wastes of time go, it's quite noble in its aims." He answered.

"You don't sound too enthusiastic about it."

"I'm enthusiastic about helping people, but Nihil Novi Sub Sole."

"Nihi-what?"

"Oh, sorry... there is nothing new under the sun. If these plants were at all miraculous, the locals would have figured it out a few thousand years ago."

"Oh. Makes sense. Well then... don't you feel like you're wasting time back here? You could be out there, making a difference somehow."

"Oh yeah?" Arcade leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrows at her. "How?"

Sandra thought about it. Niner fidgeted with the ends of his jacket sleeves, standing behind the courier and waiting impatiently for her to come along so that they could enjoy their night out. But Sandra found herself lost in conversation with this doctor, for some reason. She - she of _all_ people - knew very well that one person could make one hell of a difference if they tried hard enough.

 _Saving Megaton. Freeing countless captured wastelanders from supermutants. Defeating the Enclave and shutting down their entire operation. Saving the Jefferson Memorial. Fixing Project Purity and distributing purified water to everyone in the wasteland._

"You can do anything." Sandra told him without giving it much forethought. "It's not whether or not you _can_ do something, it's whether or not you _care_ enough to."

"Yeah. For example, I _don't_ care." Niner said. "I wanna go drink, and get high, and maybe get the cleanest bed in the Wrangler so I can pick me up a lady tonight. That's what I care 'bout doing right now. That's me all day. Here, Six. Saved you half."

Niner handed Sandra the jet inhaler.

Arcade watched her from his seat, looking slightly intrigued.

"Same with me." Sandra said, holding the inhaler up to her face and taking in what remained of the drug in one fluent breath. "I don't really care either. I'm just here to have fun... and kill a chairman at the Tops, when I get around to it. Ha!"

Sandra and Niner high-fived just before leaving the tent and heading for the exit of the Mormon Fort.

Arcade watched them leave, wearing an expression of solemn disappointment as he did.

* * *

The night was more than Sandra had anticipated, in all the best ways.

The Atomic Wrangler was completely full, and the music blared from every corner of the old building; Niner was somehow still functioning even after his chem ingestion, and he even taught Sandra how to create Nukarum. So, naturally, Sandra drank as many of them as she could get her hands on. She quickly lost count of how many Nukarums she'd inhaled. Niner kept poking her on the butt, making friendly suggestions about the two of them sharing the same motel room for the night, but Sandra made it clear that she wasn't going to be with Niner in _that_ way. The two of them were friends, and that's how it needed to stay. Sandra was sure of that, regardless of her inebriation.

Sandra and Niner caused havoc to erupt in the Wrangler on this evening. Two of the gamblers at the bar were complaining about not getting their drinks fast enough, so Sandra and Niner decided to deliver some drinks themselves. They both began pelting the two strangers in the back with glass bottles from the nearby tables; somehow, a full scale war of glass bottles broke out in the Wrangler. The security guards weren't able to calm any of them. It was full-on chaos.

Somewhere amidst the fun, Sandra got separated from Niner. Her vision blurred and everything around her seemed to be moving, but she forced herself to walk as straight as she could. The courier searched the casino for about ten minutes before deciding that Niner wasn't in the crowd anymore, and she didn't care to look for him any longer.

Sandra stumbled out of the Atmoic Wrangler, walking crookedly on the street in front of the casino. The only lights were what few of the street lamps still worked, as well as the blinding letters on the wall of the Kings' House Of Impersonation down the street. Sandra didn't want to sleep in any of the rooms inside of the Wrangler. The place was fun, but it was full of the sort of people who'd take advantage of a girl who was plastered out of her mind... it wasn't the safest place for her...

Sandra completely forgot where the Old Mormon Fort was. Her eyes weren't picking up on details the way they usually did, and it took a considerable amount of effort to take a single step without falling over. She didn't realize that she was walking in a snake-like path down the streets of Freeside, noticeably drunk and nearly unable to walk at all.

Meanwhile, outside of the Old Mormon Fort (which incidently, wasn't far from Sandra at all), Arcade stood lazily against the wall, his hands pocketed and his expression revealing his tiredness in full. The doctor had tried to get some sleep, but he wasn't able to, so here he stood, outside of the fort and staring emptily into the night sky over Freeside. He stood there by himself until he spotted a lone figure weaving down the street in front of him, a girl, the same girl he'd met a couple of hours ago... Sandra...

 _Oh great,_ Arcade thought as he watched the courier wander down the road. _She looks like she's wasted. She's gonna get herself hurt if she ends up in the wrong part of town._

Arcade straightened out and began to follow her, wondering how he ought to approach her.

Sandra wrapped her arms around the bottom of a street light, making herself sturdy on it. She caught sight of a giant rat across the road, which was darting away from a small homeless child wielding a knife. The child appeared to be chasing his dinner, from her perspective.

Sandra pulled the shotgun from her back and aimed it wobbly towards the large rodent.

Arcade squinted at her. _Wait, what is she..._

 _BANG._

Sandra pulled the trigger, and the rat's head exploded into bloody mush.

The child jumped at the sound of the shotgun, turning to Sandra and gaping at her.

"Oh... wow... thanks, lady!" The child exclaimed.

Sandra shook her head and waved him over, motioning for the child to approach her.

The Freeside child, looking confused, strolled up to her and stared at her expectantly.

"Don't eat that rat. That shit will make you sick." Sandra told the child as she reached into her bag, careful not to release her grip on the street light. "Hang on... here we go... yeah... here... take these... these are better than raw rat..."

Sandra pulled out a Nukacola, a fresh water, and a stick of iguana meat wrapped in plastic. She handed the meal to the child, who appeared positively overjoyed at the sight of it.

"Thank you so much!" The child said with a wide grin. "Thank you!"

"Go eat, kiddo. Stay safe." Sandra replied.

The child wandered off with his meal. Sandra leaned her head on the metal pole, sighing heavily and not wanting to move.

Arcade merely observed her from afar for a moment. For someone who claimed not to care, she certainly acted very charitable.

"Uh... what's up?" He said, approaching her slowly and examining her. "You... alright?"

"What is _wrong_ with this town?" Sandra asked him without answering his question. Her grip on the pole remained firm, as she didn't trust her own body to hold her up by itself anymore. "Do all the kids just scrounge around and eat rats? Is that _normal_ here? That's so _fucked up!"_

"Easy now." Arcade gently raised his hands as if he wanted to grab a hold of her, but he didn't just yet. "You know, earlier today, you didn't strike me as someone who'd be surprised by the harshness of the wasteland. You and your friend seemed to be embracing everything that's wrong with Freeside, actually. Chem abuse, partying, wasting caps on booze and drugs when there are starving children in need of a meal around the block... but here... huh. Seems like your conscious got the better of you, from what I can tell."

"What're you _talking_ about?" Sandra asked groggily, pushing herself upright from the pole and attempting to steady herself rather suddenly.

Her balance faltered and her stance swayed; Sandra nearly fell onto the sidewalk before Arcade grasped her by both of the arms. He carefully held her upright and didn't allow her to hit the concrete, staring into her with a look of both intrigue and concern.

"I just meant... I didn't expect to come outside and find a person like you feeding the hungry." He explained. "I'm pleasantly surprised that I was wrong, though."

"M'sorry..." Sandra mumbled. She simply couldn't find her footing on her own, and she was relying almost entirely on the blonde doctor to keep her standing. "What can I do? Can I do anything?"

 _"Do_ anything?" Arcade echoed. "Whaddoya mean?"

"Can I do anything to help Freeside?" Sandra tried to clarify. "I hate it... I hate seeing it like this... I hate it... I hate it..."

"So do I." Arcade responded with the faintest hint of a smile forming. "Well, I have a few ideas, but I've never really had any... you know... support. No one's been willing to put forward the effort to make Freeside a better place... but I definitely think we could make it happen."

"I'll help you." Sandra told him. "Just tell me what we need to do, and I'll help you."

Arcade merely stared at her for a few long seconds.

Sandra didn't realize it now, but she looked very different than she had earlier in the day. Her drunkenness brought out the childlike side of her, the naive side that wanted to help everyone for no reason whatsoever, and the blue glimmer in her eyes solidified the profound passion that was buried beneath the years of hardship, chem use, survival, murder, and denial. Arcade was able to see that now.

"You want to help, huh." Arcade said. "You sure it's not just the liquor talking?"

"Things are bad here... I want to make a difference... and I want you to help." Sandra replied, not knowing what was making her say all of this and not caring. "You're the one. You hate it as much as I do. I can see it. I can see it..."

"Hm. Well... that seems fairly resolute, and yet vague." Arcade gave her a sideways headnod. "Oh, alright, the idealist in me is taking over again. I really hope this doesn't bite me in the backside later on. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and help however I can, but lemme be clear about something. If your plans for 'making a difference' ever coincide with helping Caesar's Legion... this is going to be a brief friendship. I may not have all the answers on how to help Freeside - or the wasteland on a whole - but Caesar taking control isn't part of the solution. Fair?"

"Of course." Sandra agreed.

"Alright, we're good to go. We've got things to learn, people to help... maybe not in that order, but let's get to it." Arcade said. "But uh... well... okay, _tomorrow_ we'll get to it. Right now, you look like you need a twelve hour sober-up nap. Come on, come back to the Mormon Fort. C'mon..."

Arcade wrapped one of her arms around his neck and gradually escorted her back to the Old Mormon Fort.

Sandra slept more peacefully in Arcade's bunk bed than she had in years.

It felt unbelievably wonderful to be her old humanitarian self again.


	9. Dealt A Good Hand

The courier had no way of knowing what the next day had in store for her.

Today would be the day that she learned, not only of Benny's exact whereabouts and not only that Mr. House sought an audience with her, but that she had a chance of slipping Vegas out from under Benny's grasp. It was the day that set the great changing of the Mojave in motion, the day that Sandra was finally dealt a good hand. What she would do with it? Who knew.

Sandra, Niner, and Arcade spent the first half of the day running errands in Freeside. After promising Arcade that she wanted to help Freeside, Sandra felt strongly encouraged to hold up to it. It'd been a long time since she showed any generosity. It was high time she thought of other people for a change. Before meeting the King and Pacer and before she would help Julie Farkas set up a business proposition between the Followers and the Atomic Wrangler, Sandra would awaken in Arcade's bed, her head pounding, her mouth dry, and her ears ringing in an annoying way due to the two arguing voices she heard feet away from her.

"Well, if you hadn't left her alone, she wouldn't have 'ditched' you. Really, you're acting less mature than the starving children outside." Arcade scolded Niner. "She was drunk. She was drunk, and you left her alone. Please don't complain about her ditching you. There's only so much logic a person can retain when you pump them full of chems and alcohol."

"Wha' the hell are you on about?" Niner replied. "All I said was that she cut the party short by wanderin' off like that. I wasn't complaining about anything. Loosen the strap-on, will ya? Stop tryin' to play like you're a white knight, doctor dipshit. I don't gotta listen to a lecture from you."

"All I'm saying is, as her friend, you could've acted a little more responsibly."

"Tch. Friends are meant to have fun, not babysit each other. Get the stick outta your ass."

"Shut uuuup!"

Sandra rolled over and threw a pillow aimlessly towards the bickering voices.

It took her another hour to force herself out of bed. When she finally did, Arcade informed her of numerous things that needed doing in Freeside, and the three of them set off on their charitable journey. At around noon, Julie was supplied with a few loose medical supplies that Sandra had found around town, and they entered the King's House Of impersonation and spoke to the man himself. Pacer wasn't all that polite, but even he warmed up to the courier after a little while. The hours seemed to drag on for years. Finally, after settling a dispute between the NCR settlers and the locals, Sandra sauntered off towards the gates of the Strip. The King had paid her a thousand caps for all her deeds, and now, she had more than enough money to pass the credit check.

The afternoon was coming to an end when they finally entered the strip. The lights flashed many amazing colors and the music echoed from seemingly every direction; Sandra had never seen any place like it before. The sight of it was jaw-dropping.

"Hm." Arcade crossed his arms and looked around. "The strip's not a bad place if you love terrible things, and people. I'll never understand the allure of giving away your money to the rich..."

"Woooo! New Vegas baby! I told ya' we'd make it!" Niner rejoiced, effectively drowning out Arcade's voice completely. "Alright, Six. I'm gonna go get us a room at the hotel. Women expect a classy room when you pick 'em up around here. Meet me there after you take in the sights, yeah? Don't punch any tourists without me."

Sandra laughed and waved him off. Niner marched down the street and vanished from their company.

"He's a charmer." Arcade snarked. "Well, at least we had a productive day before we ended up in this... place."

"Howdy, partner!" Victor's robotic voice emitted from the nearest securitron. "Consider me your personal welcome wagon. The boss man wants to see you right away."

"Boss man? Who?" Sandra asked cluelessly, though Arcade understood the situation immediately.

"Mr. House, the one and only." Victor responded. "Y'know, ruler of Vegas? Lives in the tower that looks like a big roulette top? You'll be the first to enter that place in about two hundred years, friend. Don't take it lightly."

Sandra nodded silently. _So that's why Victor's been following me. Mr. House needs me for something._

At that, she ordered Arcade to wait outside and entered the Lucky 38. It was the cleanest interior she'd ever laid eyes on, but she wouldn't get distracted by that now, nor would she let the wonderful view from the elevator pull her from her thoughts. Still, it was quite astounding, seeing all of Vegas and the rest of the wasteland from so high up...

Mr. House turned out to be a giant face on a screen. The man seemed like a know-it-all, but Sandra made quick work of the conversation. Mr. House expressed that he wanted the platinum chip back, the thing Benny had stolen, and Sandra agreed to retrieve it. So, she left the 38, returned to Arcade, and dug around the closets in the Lucky 38's finest suites until finally locating a few decent outfits. Arcade fitted himself with a black suit, while Sandra wore a black-and-red dress fitted with a sleek black jacket. Her spiked collar rested on her neck, and she didn't remove her sunglasses. It wasn't the sort of outfit she usually enjoyed, but looking in the mirror, she found herself liking it more than she thought she would. The dress hugged her toned body and accented her hourglass curves in a way her regular attire never did.

"We saved junkies, prevented a small civil war, fed some hungry children, and became gamblers all in one day." Arcade said, attempting to straighten his tie and only halfway succeeding. "Of all the things we've done today, I really didn't think I'd find myself in a monkey suit before the day's end."

"It looks amazing on you." Sandra grasped the tie and tightened it for him. "Looking dapper, doctor man."

Arcade smirked. "And you, in a dress? You look like a completely different person."

"Oh man, I had no idea I had curves." Sandra placed her hands on her hips and examined her body up and down. "Geez, I almost look feminine."

Arcade laughed.

They stepped into the elevator and departed the 38, then made their way to the Tops casino. They were greeted by Benny's first hand man, Swank, who confiscated their weapons and showed them inside. Sandra didn't go to Benny right away. She and Arcade took the express elevator after deciding to snoop around in his room. After entering his suite, they located a secret room in the back containing a rather mysterious securitron with a very cheerful face plastered on its screen. Sandra spoke with the securitron, who went by the nickname of Yes Man, and the friendly robot informed Sandra of Benny's plans to kill Mr. House and take over Vegas with the use of the platinum chip.

"You're really... forthcoming with that info." Sandra mumbled suspiciously.

"Oh, I was programmed to answer any and all questions asked of me." Yes Man informed. "Nobody bothered restricting who I answer questions for. Guess that was pretty dumb, huh?"

There was a pause. Arcade and Sandra were thinking along the same lines.

"Say I wanted to take over Vegas." Sandra said impulsively, allowing a devilish grin to emerge on her face. "Say Mr. House has an accident. I've been in the 38. I can make it happen."

"Well, then I'd have to help you. I mean, I'm pretty sure Benny wouldn't want me to, but hey... not my fault I can't say no."

"And where's Benny now? Is he here in the casino?"

"Sure, I think he's downstairs."

"Great, thanks. Be ready to meet me at the 38 when everything's taken care of, Yes Man."

"Oh, I sure will!"

Sandra stormed out of the suite with Arcade following her closely behind. He didn't speak until they were alone inside the express elevator.

"So... you're gonna try to make a power grab, huh." Arcade said. "You're either incredibly lucky, or you've got some bad motives underneath that exterior of yours. Although... judging how we just spent the day... I'm gonna take the optimistic route, and say you're wanting to take over Vegas for the greater good. You know, to help locals and fix the economy, and not to just... seize power, and consume money."

"You'd be right." Sandra nodded. "I've got a real chance at changing something big. Mr. House doesn't do anything except siphon money away from everyone, but if I was in power? Psssh! I could do so much more!"

"Alright, listen. If you're going to do this, you really need to give it some careful thought. You're talking about restructuring an independent region all by yourself. I won't tell you it's a bad idea, but it's not gonna be easy."

"I know."

"And I'm not an expert, but I think I can help you, if you want me to."

"Sure. I'll need all the help I can get."

"Great. Good, well... yeah. That's good."

The elevator doors slid open. When Sandra and Arcade entered the main room of the casino, they saw that Benny and his bodyguards were nowhere in sight.

"Damn..." Sandra swore. "Maybe he saw us come in. He might've gotten spooked and ran off."

"You have to get the platinum chip back from him somehow." Arcade said.

"Yeah. I guess I can go talk to Mr. House and ask him what to do." Sandra replied. "It's not like there's anything else I can do."

Sandra and Arcade pushed open the doors and stepped outside. Before Sandra could make her way towards the Lucky 38, a hand clasped around the front of her fancy black jacket, halting her in her step. Sandra almost pushed the man away on instinct, until he spoke, and she recognized his voice instantly.

"What's your hurry?" Vulpes Inculta said smoothly. He looked entirely different than before; now, he wore a dapper gambler's suit and a pre-war hat, and his eyes were no longer covered, revealing that he had the same oceanic blue eyes as Sandra herself. "The eyes of the mighty Caesar are upon you. He admires your accomplishments, and he's decided to bestow upon you the exceptional gift of his mark."

Vulpes stealthily slipped a large necklace from within his suit. It was a round golden crest that was meant to be worn around the recipient's neck. He placed it in Sandra's hand and released his hold on her, taking a step back and examining her closely.

Arcade's teeth ground together. He watched the frumentarius silently as his nails dug into the skin of his palms.

Sandra took a moment to gather herself. This was the last place she expected to see the Fox of the Legion - and she definitely never thought she'd see him in a suit. Hell, after Nipton, Sandra didn't think she would cross paths with him again at all. But here he was, dressed like a profligate and offering her a formal invitation to the heart of Caesar's Legion.

"It might interest you to know that the man you're pursuing left the casino shortly after your arrival." Vulpes told her. "The man, rumor has it, who is carrying the platinum chip. Caesar's finest have captured him, and he awaits audience with you as well as my Lord does."

"The Legion captured Benny?" Sandra asked.

"Yes. And my Lord is willing to leave his death to you." Vulpes responded.

"Why does he want to see me?"

"Go to him, and you will understand."

"But..."

"This is three times." Vulpes sneered. "Three times, you and I have crossed paths. I hope you realize how fortunate you are, woman. I suppose it was a sign of what's to come. Seek Caesar by way of Cottonwood Cove, south of Nelson."

"But I..."

"Caesar awaits."

Vulpes turned and marched away from them.

Sandra watched him until he vanished into the crowd of gamblers.

"So... Mr. House doesn't care that one of Caesar's most notorious spies is walking around on the strip, huh." Arcade said. "Either that, or his securitrons' AI is too primitive to recognize the threat. Hm... neither answer is particularly comforting."

"You're right. So, guess what?" Sandra said, facing him. "Only one thing left to do. We're going to Cottonwood Cove."

"Are you serious?"

"Yup."

"Wait, wait, wait a second - I'd like to think that you're planning to walk through the gates of hell out of academic curiosity, but I'm not so open minded that I've lost my brains. You can't really be considering accepting that invitation."

"I have to. Benny's there, and he has the platinum chip."

"But Caesar-"

"Arcade, we're just gonna listen to him, figure out what he's up to, grab the chip, and get out of there. Fast and easy. I promise."

Arcade sighed. "Well... alright. Short of cancelling our immanent travel plans, that's the best thing you could have said. Just be careful. If we travel at Caesar's pleasure, he may not let us out as easily as he lets us in."

Niner wouldn't get to soak up all the sights like he'd planned to.

Sandra yanked him out of the hotel, and the three of them made off for Cottonwood Cove.

Once they were back in their usual outfits and outside of Freeside's gates, Sandra spoke to them both.

"We'll go back and party at the strip soon, I promise." Sandra told Niner, noticing his sour expression. "We've got business to take care of first. We've gotta walk directly into the belly of the beast, but we're not going without some backup. I know a guy in Novac who'd love to help us out against the Legion. Oh man, this is gonna be fun."


	10. How The Mighty Fall

They reached Novac around midnight.

Sandra allowed her friends to sleep in her hotel room while she ventured off to the dinosaur's mouth to speak with Boone.

"Come with me." She said when she met eyes with the sniper. "I'm going to Cottonwood Cove, and I need some backup."

"Cottonwood Cove. That's Legion territory." Boone grumbled. "Why are you going there?"

"I was invited. They have something of mine, something I really need, but I won't get it back if I go in guns blazing. I'd die if I tried something like that. I need to play it safe, be civil, and you'd be the perfect backup for that."

"So... you want me to cover you."

"Yes! Exactly."

"Uh-huh. And you're just gonna stroll into a Legion camp and act all chummy with them..."

"It's temporary, I swear. I'm not gonna join the Legion or anything. Please?" Sandra pleaded.

Boone let out a long, stressed breath.

"Fine." He agreed. "But only on one condition. Once you have what you went there for, I'm lining it up with Caesar's dome, and I'm taking the shot, no questions asked. We got a deal?"

Sandra smiled.

"Definitely."

* * *

After a good night's sleep, the courier and her friends set off for Cottonwood Cove in the late morning.

Niner was chattering in the back of her head, while Arcade and Boone introduced themselves, both making it clear that neither of them were Legion supporters immediately. Arcade explained the platinum chip situation to Boone, which made the sniper much less hesitant about the whole plan. Being civil with the Legion wasn't something Arcade enjoyed any more than Boone did, but it was something that needed to be done... for now, at least.

"Ugh." Niner groaned once they reached a stretch of road that carried a few broken signs. One for Novac, one for Nelson, and one for a place called Camp Searchlight. "Searchlight. If what I've heard's true, we do _not_ wanna go there."

 _You're playing with fire,_ a voice spoke from the back of Sandra's mind as they walked under the midday sun. The voice in her head managed to drown out those of her companions. _Just like old times. Getting people involved in your misguided thrill-seeking adventures. It suits you much better than pretending to be cold and heartless, you know._

"I know." Sandra whispered to herself.

Boone and Arcade hung at the back of the group.

"Who's the jackass?" Boone asked in a hushed tone, motioning towards Niner.

"Uh... a friend of hers." Arcade replied. "His name's Niner. He seems to have a bit of a chem problem, but... well... he's not all that bad."

Boone made an odd rumbling noise.

Arcade sighed. It made sense to be mistrusting of anyone with a chem problem, but after having been around Niner for a little while, Arcade found him to be a lot more loyal than the doctor would have first guessed. He always seemed to have Sandra's back, regardless of what was going on.

"So... when we find this place... they're both going in, and you..?" Boone said.

"I'm going in with them." Arcade replied.

"You wouldn't _really_ just walk into the Legion's camp..."

"I'm afraid I have to."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes." Arcade squinted at Sandra from behind. "I wouldn't feel right sending her into the heart of Hades by herself."

Boone gave him a peculiar look from behind his sunglasses.

"Huh." He grunted. "So I'll have to cover for all three of your asses. Gotcha."

"Hey, I'll be running for the hills if anything happens. I'm not really a fighter. Not sure how many Legion warriors I could take down." Arcade snickered, but despite saying this, he didn't plan to run away if any violence broke out. He knew that they'd hardly stand a chance against all of the Legionaries, but he'd at least go down fighting.

They bypassed Nelson and Searchlight, walking through the desert until finally reaching a long hill, and on the sides of the road were crosses holding the skeletons of those who the Legion had crucified upon their arrival to Cottonwood Cove. Boone broke away from the group before they came within eyeshot of the Legionaries down the road. He'd be in position a little ways north by the time Sandra and the others would reach the fort. He'd planned to borrow a canoe from an old fishing lodge now inhabited by mirelurks, and he would row across the river and find a position fit for sniping. It was a good plan, and in Sandra's eyes, nothing could go wrong.

"Halt!" A Legionary called from the bottom of the hill. "What business have you in Cottonwood Cove, outsiders?"

"I was invited." Sandra yelled in response, flashing the mark of Caesar from underneath her shirt.

"You wear the mark of Caesar? I see. You must be the one... yes... you are to meet the Cursor down by the docks. And remember, mark or no, we will not tolerate aggressive actions in our camp." The Legion recruit told them before turning and marching back into the camp.

Sandra and Niner peered around curiously upon entering the camp, while Arcade simply tried to avoid eye contact with any of the Legion recruits, veterans, or frumentarii. They walked onto the docks and approached a rather tall Legionary standing beside the canoes.

"Awe. Are you ready to travel up river?" The Cursor asked.

Sandra nodded.

"Alright. The trip will take a few hours. Make yourselves comfortable in the boat, and don't stick your hands over the edge. Sometimes the mirelurks come up for a bite."

The trip did, indeed, take hours. Dusk had arrived by the time they reached the fort.

Stepping out of the boat was almost painful for all of them, after having sat still for so long. The fort held easily twice as many Legionaries as Cottonwood Cove. Sandra heaved a breath and led her companions onward. It was extremely unnerving, being here, but she couldn't allow them to intimidate her. They weren't being hostile, after all. This wouldn't end too badly, would it?

When they reached Caesar's tent, a Legion guard placed a hand on her shoulder before she could enter.

"You must enter Caesar's tent alone. Your friends will have to wait outside." He said.

"Alright. Niner, Arcade, wait here for me. I'll be right back." Sandra instructed before vanishing behind the tent flap.

Niner simply shrugged, but Arcade looked very displeased. They both stood quietly at the top of the hill until the guard wandered off.

"So... doctor man." Niner said. "You just gonna stand there like a sourpuss, or you wanna go get the scoop?"

Arcade stared at him. "What?"

"C'mon, I see that look on your face. You wanna know what Caesar's talkin' about in there, dontcha?" Niner smirked. "Let's go take a look, see. I bet we can eavesdrop from behind the tent."

"If we get caught..."

"Yeah, so what if we get caught? I bet I could take down ten of these guys without breaking a sweat."

"You're completely reckless."

"C'mon, live a little. You're all about helping Vegas, ain't you? This is how we do it. We gather info on the enemy. We go and... oh, hold on, check that out."

Niner began fidgeting with his headset. Arcade had noticed that Sandra and Niner wore the same headsets with microphones when they first met, but he never got around to asking them about it. He guessed that it was a tactical advantage for them. It was a smart thing for any wasteland survivors to do, to give themselves an efficient form of long range communication.

"Ohhh... she's got her headset in her pocket." Niner grinned, removing the headset and holding it up between his and Arcade's heads. "It's making that staticky noise. That means she's turned it on. Lookit that, Six was one step ahead of us. She's letting us eavesdrop."

Arcade and Niner both held their ears up to the tiny microphone.

Inside of the tent, Sandra approached Caesar's throne, noticing the many guards around him, but more so than anyone else, the familiar frumentarius standing at the man's side. Vulpes still wore his suit from the strip, which meant he hadn't arrived much sooner than Sandra or her friends. Caesar and Vulpes both gave Sandra a very observant stare when she stopped in front of them. The interior of the tent filled with a tense quietness. Sandra didn't even notice Benny, who was sitting crouched in the dirt along the sidelines, his wrists tied together and his mouth fitted with a gag wrap.

"So I finally get to meet the courier who's accomplished so much in so little time." Caesar said, looking her up and down.

Sandra resisted the urge to fiddle with the headset in her pocket. _I hope Niner's actually listening to this. I feel like I'm wearing a wire, like an undercover cop._

"That's why I summoned you here, right? I mean, a man nearly kills you, and your response is to track him across the breadth of the Mojave?" Caesar said, a note approval in his tone. "And you nearly got to him, too. Caught him with his pants down in that casino. When you set your mind to something, you get results. I like that. Now, question is... are you ready to get started?"

"Definitely. Where were you looking to start?" Sandra replied. _Is he trying to enlist me? He wants me to work for him? Pfff... he's gonna have anther thing coming._

"I built this camp over an old bunker, a bunker that's been around since before the war. It belongs to a certain Robert House, and whatever he's got stowed away in that bunker, it's heavily guarded. Guarded by doors that can't be pried open, or melted open, or blasted open... because all of that, I tried. But the opening on the console beside the door is shaped exactly like that platinum chip of yours, and the doors have the same symbol on them as the chip too. Isn't that interesting?" Caesar pulled the tiny, round platinum chip out from within his armored garment. "Your first job from me is one of great importance. I wouldn't trust it to most of my men, but you... you've shown promise, shown real drive in a world that really doesn't reward such behavior. But I do. You may be a woman, but you've got the blood of a warrior in you. That's why... this job isn't going to one of my men, or to me personally. This job..."

He stood from his throne and handed her the platinum chip.

"... is meant for _you."_

Benny gawked at the courier from his knelt position.

Vulpes continued to watch her in an unyielding way.

Sandra gulped, slowly slipping the platinum chip out of Caesar's fingers.

"Thank you." She said as formally as she could. "What do you want me to do exactly?"

"I want you to destroy whatever you find down there." Caesar answered. "And then I want you to come back here and tell me about it."

Sandra gave the man a final nod before turning and leaving the tent. She was almost able to feel Vulpes' burning glare following her from behind as she left.

The moment she stepped outside of the tent, she was greeted with a furious Arcade. The doctor slammed both of his hands onto her shoulders and pulled her away from the tent.

"What a load of brahmin shit! Can you believe that guy?!" Arcade spouted, a safe enough distance so that he wouldn't be overheard.

Sandra looked between him and Niner.

Niner stood a few feet away, still holding his headset where he and Arcade had listened in on Caesar's conversation with her. Niner had an expression mixed with surprise and confusion on his face. He hadn't expected Arcade to react so drastically to what they'd heard.

"Who... Caesar?" Sandra stuttered.

"Of _course_ Caesar!" Arcade responded heatedly. "Why did the last two hundred years even happen? Hm? So we could all play dress up and reenact ancient wars? This is beyond ridiculous. You almost can't even blame his followers for serving him. He's got them so heavily brainwashed, I'm surprised they can even speak english or dress themselves."

"Uh... dude... chill... they can hear us." Niner whispered, but Arcade didn't care.

"There's no way we're letting him take Hoover Dam." Arcade said in an oddly powerful voice. "I'm not letting it happen. _You're_ not letting it happen."

"I..." Sandra gaped at him.

Arcade was the last person she figured would act so strongly against the Legion. He didn't approve of the Legion, but really, he didn't seem like the sort of person who'd carry the sort of passion that shone in his eyes now. In fact, his bottle green eyes looked familiar to her, the way her eyes once appeared when she'd look in a mirror... fiery with passion, with purpose...

Sandra smiled at him.

"You know it." She said. "Come on. We have work to do before we get out of this hellhole."

The three of them strolled down the hill and entered the bunker. As Caesar predicted, the platinum chip was able to open the doors to the bunker, and they all entered it without giving the nearby idle Legionaries any attention.

Once the doors closed behind them, Sandra came face to face with a large screen displaying the face of Mr. House.

"Well... you're here ahead of schedule." Mr. House said. "And you've brought a little back up. Smart move, considering where you are now. No doubt Caesar's sent you down here to destroy what I've had stored away for two hundred-something odd years. He's afraid of what's in here, and rightfully so. But you're not going to follow his orders - you're going to do the smart thing, and work for me."

"Why?" Sandra asked.

"Because I can give you anything you like, once you deliver the... manpower." House replied. "Not only do you posses the ability to upgrade my securitrons to the MKII operating system, but you'll also be awakening the ones that have been on... standby... ever since the war."

"So your securitron army will be a lot stronger, basically." Sandra said.

"All the better to protect Vegas from... other... entities. The Republic, and of course, the Legion... and you, my dear, would be set for life." House told her.

Sandra gave the screen an approving sneer. Even if she never succeeded in killing Mr. House, being set up for life sounded like a pretty sweet deal. But with Arcade on her team now, she suspected that living a comfortable life under Mr. House's rule wasn't an option anymore. Now, suddenly, she had an obligation to fix Vegas, and Mr. House would need to be out of the picture before that could happen. Nevertheless, with or without Mr. House, the securitrons protecting Vegas ought to be as strong as they possibly can. That would aid Sandra's agenda much more than destroying them would. Upgrading them was the way to go.

Sandra and her friends traveled into the bunker. Arcade disabled the security system (him having vastly more scientific knowledge than Sandra or Niner), and they reached the room containing the primary console in no time. Sandra inserted the platinum chip, and the floor shook beneath them. An endless army of securitrons under the bunker stirred themselves awake. Now, all they had to do was get out of here.

So, the courier and her companions returned to Caesar's tent. Sandra walked under the tent flap with Niner and Arcade waiting outside.

"I heard the ground shake a moment ago. I'll take that as a sign - you got the job done." Caesar said to Sandra.

"Yup." Sandra replied. _Yeah. Run with that, big man._

"Good. And since you've been inside the Lucky 38, you'd be the perfect person to assign my next task." Caesar said. "I want you to kill Mr. House. Kill him, then return to me. Oh, but before you go... don't forget to deal with that suited monkey over there."

He waved a hand at Benny.

Sandra hardly looked at him.

"Crucify him." Sandra shrugged. "I don't care. He's not worth my time."

Caesar laughed. "A woman after my own heart, haha. Very well. I'll leave him outside somewhere for you to see on your way in and out."

Sandra returned the snicker. _Yeah... but after I leave, I won't be coming back, and you'll be dead. Bye bye, Caesar._

She almost left at once, but something occurred to her. It was a question that she would never have the chance to ask again after today.

"I wanted to ask you something before I left." Sandra said. "I wanted to ask... about Vulpes."

Caesar perked an eyebrow. "Vulpes? What about him?"

"I... met him in Nipton." Sandra responded, glimpsing around and making sure Vulpes wasn't around. "I was just curious. Who is he? Where did he come from?"

"He's the best of my frumentarii, and the youngest. He was a remarkable tribal from a rather unremarkable tribe. Vulpes was adopted into the Legion as a child, and he rose through the ranks in no time." Caesar explained. "Honestly, every time he went out I expected him to be killed off due to some careless mistake. Young people make careless mistakes quite often. But he comes back every time. Fully competent, he is. I'd like to see a person like you in the arena with him. It'd be one hell of a fight, I'm sure."

"Arena?"

"Yes. We have an arena in the middle of camp, I'm sure you saw it on the way in. Tell you what... if you manage to kill Vulpes in that arena, I'll pay your delivery charge three fold, exclusively in Aureus coins." Caesar offered. "I'll be honest, I'm willing to pay out the ass for entertainment. It's getting boring for me around here."

Sandra took in a large breath. _Wow. You really don't care about your followers at all, do you?_

"No thanks. Listen, you told me all I wanted to know. I'll be back after I've killed Mr. House." Sandra lied, just before turning away and marching off.

Sandra headed towards the tent flap, but someone grabbed her by the wrist, halting her midstep.

"Come." Vulpes said quietly. "Speak with me privately."

Vulpes stepped into one of the segments of Caesar's tent that sat blind to the other Legionaries. Sandra followed him inside. The two of them stood alone in silence for nearly a full minute before Vulpes finally opened his mouth to speak.

He sat at the end of the table, intertwining his fingers and resting his chin on his hands. He didn't look the same way he did back in Nipton, or even the way he looked on the strip. The sadistic gleam in his eyes was gone. He appeared much less sinister than ever before. Such a grounded expression seemed highly out of character for him.

"My Lord..." He began.

Sandra claimed a seat and leaned on the table, watching Vulpes intently and waiting for him to continue.

"My Lord sometimes sleeps, and doesn't awaken." Vulpes met her gaze. "He sometimes speaks, then goes quiet. He has been neglecting his obligations and not giving proper orders to the Legion scouts. And as the days have passed, he grows paler... skinnier..."

"You think he's sick?" Sandra muttered softly.

"He must be." Vulpes nodded. "And we lack the means to heal him. But you... you're traveling with that profligate doctor."

Sandra gulped.

"Your doctor. If we use him, then Caesar can be healed." Vulpes said. "Your doctor can give him a diagnosis, and surgery, if need be."

"Uhm..." Sandra stammered. How could she respond to this?

Vulpes narrowed his eyes at her.

Sandra hesitated. Only moments ago, Caesar was offering to pay Sandra to kill Vulpes in the arena simply for entertainment. And now, Vulpes was trying to save Caesar's life by striking a deal with Sandra. Vulpes was a merciless person, but he seemed to care for Caesar, and Caesar certainly didn't return the favor. And beyond it all, none of it would matter soon; after Sandra would leave the fort, Boone would take the shot, and Caesar would be gone from the world forever.

"Listen..." Sandra leaned closer. "I'll talk to Arcade about it. Arcade is a real humanitarian. He helps people. I'm sure he'll agree to save Caesar."

Vulpes continued to gaze quietly into Sandra's eyes.

Sandra hardened her expression. She didn't have a choice, she had to lie to Vulpes. It was the only way to safely escape the confines of the Legion encampment without making Caesar's greatest frumentarius into a sworn enemy of hers.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." Sandra said, reaching her feet. It was strange, because now, she felt more and more guilty with every word she spoke. Lying to Vulpes, the ruthless Legion frumentarius, shouldn't have weighed on her conscious at all... should it...?

Vulpes gave her a loose goodbye wave. Sandra walked out of the tent and returned to Niner and Arcade.

Sandra, Niner, and Arcade quietly made their way out of the fort.

They'd hear the loud echo of Boone's sniper rifle penetrate the sound barrier right around the time they'd board the boat back to Cottonwood Cove.


	11. Beasts Of Black Mountain

_Five weeks later_

* * *

Many things happened after the death of the mighty Caesar.

With Benny dead and with the platinum chip in her possession, Sandra had no solid destination anymore. Yes Man had suggested that she 'get to know' the various tribes in the region, the factions that she'd spent the last four years ignoring. It was something that she absolutely needed to do if she were to eventually seize power in the Mojave. After all, Sandra spent all her time in the Mojave thus far pretending that the politics and the wars around her didn't exist. There was definitely a lot to catch up on if she wanted to construct a decent future for New Vegas. She didn't have any excuse for turning a blind eye to the world anymore.

As far as Mr. House knew, Sandra was doing his dirty work only for the money. He couldn't have known about her devious plot to overthrow him, but she and Arcade had already agreed that Mr. House didn't belong in a prospering Vegas. He'd done nothing to help the poor and starving in Freeside, and often bragged about how he exploited the allure of 'giving your money to the rich' to sustain his power, in Arcade's words. If any real change was to be expected, Mr. House would need to be removed. It would happen in good time. For now, Sandra and her companions focused on traveling and learning everything they could about the factions that they would later need to work with, or deal with.

For the first two weeks following Caesar's death, Sandra decided to give Arcade, Boone, and Niner a break. She ordered them to stay put in the Lucky 38 and relax (Niner didn't object to this; he had a blast on the strip, stealing change out of the water fountains and occasionally trying to steal from the office safes in Gomorrah). While they were on the strip, Sandra followed a broadcast that led her to a place called the Northern Passage, where she served as a gun for hire for a group of travelers called the Happy Trails Caravan. After having a thrilling adventure in Utah involving a few tribes (and meeting the legendary Joshua Graham, who she enjoyed informing about Caesar's death), she headed home with a shiny new 45 pistol. Once she finally returned to Nevada, Sandra thought she'd head straight back to the strip, but a series of mysterious broadcasts appearing on her Pip-Boy effectively sidetracked her. Somehow, she discovered an old Casino called the Sierra Madre, a crater filled with old forgotten labs that contained numerous scientific discoveries and inventions, and last but not least, a place called the Divide, where she met an ex-Legion courier named Ulysses. When she finally got around to returning to Vegas, her crimson bangs had grown at least an inch, and she was wearing her satchel over her back with two stolen gold bars weighing it down, as well as a sleeveless duster decorated with the old world flag on the back. Arcade almost didn't recognize her when she returned.

Despite having been home for weeks now, Sandra still wasn't done telling stories about her lonesome adventures. As the four of them walked down the road leading towards Sloan, intent on finding the fabled Hidden Valley and learning about the Brotherhood of Steel, Sandra let her Pip-Boy play Radio New Vegas for a short time before resuming her story about the Divide. She wouldn't get to finish the story.

"... and it's not known how Caesar's assailant was able to make it in and out alive." Mr. New Vegas's voice spoke from the Pip-Boy.

Sandra switched it over to Black Mountain Radio.

"They won't shut up about Caesar dying." She said. "It's been a month and a half. Geez, how long are they gonna talk about it?"

"Well, it's kind of a big deal, you see..." Arcade snarked. "The west's most notorious dictator apart from President Kimball gets assassinated by an unknown party? I'm surprised the other radio stations aren't talking about it more."

"Heh..." Boone smirked, rubbing his rifle with a polishing rag as they walked. "Watching his head explode was totally worth the walk. Whatever happens from here on out, we killed that sonofabitch right in the middle of his own fortress."

Sandra smiled.

"Ahahahah! And we were all detective-like in there, man, had the scoop and everything!" Niner laughed.

Sandra almost responded, but she was interrupted by a monstrous voice on her Pip-Boy's radio.

"Ahah! Now Rhonda, we turn our attention away from Moe to have an exclusive interview with our own Raul Tejada! Now, is it Raul, or should we call you amigo?"

The voice was overwhelmingly raspy and deep.

"That sounds like a super mutant..." Arcade whispered.

They all stopped in the middle of the road and gathered around the Pip-Boy, listening to the broadcast closely.

"Uh... either one works." Another voice spoke, this one sounding completely human with a very subtle Mexican accent.

"Today you die, Raul! I command it!" The monstrous voice shouted.

"Ohh, Supreme Tabitha says you're sentenced to death, Raul!" Another throaty voice said. "How do you react?"

"I'll obey Supreme Tabitha. Her word is law." The person named Raul replied. "Just... I feel so bad, I'll die before I can fix her special robot."

The one called Tabitha let out a thick growl of displeasure.

Suddenly, the station began to play _It's A Sin,_ ending the live broadcast.

Sandra, Niner, Arcade, and Boone all glimpsed at each other.

Sandra and Arcade seemed to lock on one another.

"No..." Arcade said, noticing the glimmer in her eyes. "Sandra, now, don't do anything crazy..."

"That sounded like a cry for help. We might have just gotten a rescue mission." Sandra sneered.

"Sandra..."

"We can't just ignore that."

"But we..."

"Come on, it sounds like the guy needs help."

"I know that, but the four of us..."

"We've taken on worse than supermutants, 'aven't we?" Niner grinned, sliding a bottle of whiskey from his bag and taking a few swigs. "I say we storm in there, take over the place, and stomp them muties outta existence."

"Yeah. I agree with Needles." Boone commented, taking the bottle from Niner and gulping down the rest of its contents. "We've fought giant ants, radscorpions, and even cazadors. I think we can take the muties too."

"The 'muties' are armed. Plus, they're a lot more thick skinned than any of those bugs we've gone up against." Arcade argued. "I'm not against the idea, but we can't be reckless about this."

"That LAER rips opponents apart. That's why I brought it back from Big Mountain." Sandra told him. "I gave you that laser weapon for a reason. You're damn good with it."

"Don't you _ever_ count on _my_ fighting skills to help us in a predicament." Arcade said, only partly joking. "That kind of planning will get us killed."

Sandra headed towards the mountain with the satellite dish on top. The others followed her.

Thankfully, fighting through the supermutants wasn't as difficult as they expected.

Along the road that winded up the side of the mountain, the supermutants stood at the fences. When they spotted the courier and her companions, they opened fire, but their precision left something to be desired. Their aim, thankfully, was terrible. Sandra, Niner, Arcade, and Boone mowed down all of the supermutants in their way as they headed further and further up the mountain. 45 bullets, blue laser fire, 308 rounds, and whatever Niner's tommygun spat flew wildly through the air as the four of them kept on. Eventually, they reached the top of the mountain, where the nightkin stood with their stealthboys activated, though it was very obvious where they were. They were hardly invisible, with their gigantic bodies distorting the air like shimmering water.

"Ah man, this is TOO easy!" Niner exclaimed.

Boone gave Niner a highfive.

"Yeah yeah, we're doing fine so far. But luck's been on our side this whole time. Can't count on that forever. Don't get cocky." Arcade said.

Sandra marched past the dead supermutants and nightkin, towards a dome-shaped building. Inside were crates of bottlecaps and ammunition, and a table containing a radio. Sandra fiddled with the radio, interrupting the song that was playing and making the broadcast go silent for a moment.

"Hey! You interrupt my broadcast, dumb-dumb! Now there had better be a good reason! What is it!" The growling voice of Tabitha demanded from the radio.

"Just came for an autograph. Make it out to 'the last person you'll ever see,' alright?" Sandra replied.

"Intruder! HUMAN INTRUDER! KILL THE HUMANS!" Tabitha roared just before the connection cut out.

Boone and Niner were chuckling, but Arcade didn't seem pleased.

"Now you've done it." Arcade said. "We really don't need to antagonize them..."

"Woooo! Antagonizers! We're the ultimate friggin' antagonizers!" Niner cheered, holding an inhaler to his face and taking in a puff of jet. Then, he tossed the inhaler to Sandra, who sucked up the rest of the drug all by herself.

"Yeah, and about the jet habit..." Arcade started, but the others were already heading for the exit, hoping to breach Black Mountain's headquarters.

Arcade sighed and followed them.

Niner and Sandra reloaded their guns and began firing at the nightkin.

"Look!" Arcade grasped Boone's shoulder and pointed towards the broadcasting tower. "RPG, twelve o'clock!"

On the balcony of the tower was a supermutant carrying a missile launcher. Boone aligned his sniper rifle with the mutant's head-

BANG.

The missile sniper fell limb over the balcony's fence, it's head exploding into pulp.

With the RPG sniper out of commission, it was easy for them to overrun the place. Sandra led them towards the closest building. They all rushed into the shack with haste, and once they were all inside, Arcade slammed the door shut and locked it.

Boone and Niner were reloading their guns again. Sandra tried to open another door, only to find that it was locked, so she began typing on a nearby terminal in the hopes of unlocking it.

Arcade massaged his temples and attempted to slow his breath. He seemed to be the only one who realized that they were getting through this battle on only nerve and luck, and that they were taking their victory for granted.

"Got it." Sandra said, stepping away from the terminal. "Hey. Anybody in there?"

She knocked on the door twice before pushing it open. Inside, there were shelves of tools and other items, and across the room, a ghoul in a green jumpsuit sat at a desk. The ghoul turned his head to face Sandra, his milky blue eyes squinting at her oddly.

"Took you long enough." The ghoul said. "So, can I go now?"

Sandra recognized that voice. It was Raul Tejada, the man she heard on the radio.

"Damn right." Sandra responded. "You can leave now. We came to bust you out."

"Heh... alrighty then." Raul stood from his seat. "I'll just head out. Alone. By myself. Into the dangerous wastes."

"No you won't. Come with us." Sandra said. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"Tch. You just fought past a hoard of supermutants all by yourselves. Ain't like I'm gonna question anything at this point." Raul replied. "I'm right behind you."

"NOOO!" Tabitha's howling voice screamed from the radio on the desk. "I WON'T LET YOU HAVE MY RAUL!"

"Right, so... I'm thinking we should stay in here." Arcade commented. "At least until we make a plan for breaking back _out_ of this place."

"Nah, we can shoot our way outta here, just like we did breaking in." Niner said.

"We've got better odds than we did when we breached the place. Getting out should be no problem." Boone added.

"Now, come on, this is ridiculous." Arcade tried to convince them, appearing to be at a loss. "Tabitha just ordered _all of them_ to come after us over the radio, and you think our odds are _better_ now? That couldn't be further from the truth. Just listen to me, you guys. Sandra..."

Arcade gave Sandra a pleading look.

Sandra thought about it. She wanted to get out of the place as soon as possible, but Arcade had never been wrong about these types of things before. Despite being the most pacifistic one out of all of them, his battle sense was probably the best out of the whole group. Unlike Niner, Boone, or Sandra herself, Arcade didn't have a strong sense of pride affecting his judgment. It was something that made him extremely valuable.

"Yeah... yeah, you're right." Sandra agreed. "We'll stay here for a while. It's not like they can get in here. We'll wait for them to wander off. Eventually, they'll get board and think that we left or something. We'll wait for the right opportunity to slip away. They're all looking for us right now. Now's not the time."

Arcade exhaled a breath of relief. Niner and Boone sat against the wall and tended to their guns, and Raul reclaimed his chair beside the desk, attempting to finish his bowl of noodles.

The sunset faded into nighttime, and miles away, a camp of NCR Rangers met their deaths. While the rangers were sleeping, four crimson-clad soldiers snuck up on them and slit each of their throats before they could have hoped to fight back. The leader of the Legion spies stood upright, kicking the body of the NCR Ranger away in disgust. He slid the goggles off his face and wiped the blood from his cheek, his blue eyes glaring forward with a determination that would have rivaled Lord Caesar himself.

"Won't be long now." Vulpes uttered. "Keep moving, men. We're hot on their tail. They can't be too far now."


	12. Conflicts Of Interest

Hours went by.

Once the thumping outside stopped, Niner and Boone began debating whether they ought to chance peeking outside or not. Arcade was seated at one of the terminals cleaning his LAER, and Sandra had plopped onto the floor beside Raul's chair.

"So..." Raul turned to Sandra. "Just, uh, out of curiosity..."

"Yeah?" Sandra said.

"What made you fight your way up here, really? You can be honest with me. Was it for loot, or a bounty, or...?" Raul wondered.

Sandra stared at him. This was something she used to experience all the time. People would be confused whenever she'd try to help them free of charge. Most people didn't understand that kind of selflessness, and they acted as if it was completely alien to them.

"It was for you." Sandra told him truthfully. "I just... acted on impulse. It sounded like you needed help, so..."

A throaty laugh escaped from Raul's mouth.

"Well shit, I'd all but given up in here. Didn't really count on a random act of kindness getting me out, but hell, I'll take it." He cackled.

Sandra peered upwards and met his gaze, then immediately looked away. It was difficult for her to maintain eye contact with Raul. He looked nothing like Charon, but his eyes... those faded blue eyes... they were the same as her old best friend's.

"You think we're safe to leave?" Niner asked everyone. "I gotta piss..."

"Not yet." Arcade answered. "It's gotten quieter, but I don't think they've fallen asleep yet. We killed a lot of their people. They're understandably still riled up, I'll bet. They've stopped looking, but they're still waiting for us to come out of wherever we're hiding."

"Might as well get comfortable, then." Boone said, placing his rifle against the wall and sitting on the floor. "I need a nap."

The others began to nest on the floor in the most comfortable ways they could.

Sandra isolated herself in the corner and slipped another jet inhaler from her satchel. It was her last one. Hopefully, they'd get out of this situation soon enough for them to resupply on chems at the nearest trader.

Arcade's back hit the wall, and he slid into a sitting position beside her.

"So..." He said quietly. "I'm no good at this _friendship support_ type stuff, but... I think we should talk."

Sandra didn't say anything. She merely glanced at the others. Nobody was close enough to hear them, and they all seemed uninterested in any case.

"The... the jet." Arcade began. "I've got to ask. Why?"

"Do you have a problem with the chems?" Sandra asked.

"I'm a doctor, and I know what they do to people if they're taken habitually." Arcade replied. "And I don't want to get in your business, really I don't, but I've noticed that you're taking it more and more lately."

"Why do you care?" Sandra said, suddenly feeling defensive.

"Well, pardon me, but I thought the whole reason you wanted me to tag along was to help everyone in the Mojave however we could. It doesn't really make sense to exclude you from 'everyone,' I don't think." Arcade remarked. "The coward in me wants to ignore your obvious developing addiction, but... the activist in me wants to smack you upside the head and tell you how wrong this is."

"I... need it." Sandra told him, rubbing the red inhaler with her thumb as she stared at it.

"I know it feels that way, but we can break you from it."

"No, it's not like that..."

"It's an addiction, Sandra."

"I know, but it's not as physical as you think."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. I take it... because... it keeps me awake." Sandra informed. "I need to be awake most of the time."

"Why?" Arcade asked her, leaning closer and giving her a thoughtful overlook. "Why do you need to be awake?"

Sandra couldn't look at him.

 _How weird,_ she thought. _Charon had the same addiction when I met him, and I broke him of it. How ironic..._

"I... have nightmares." Sandra revealed. "I just... wake up in a panic sometimes. It's just easier if I don't sleep very much."

Then, something happened that made Sandra's heart skip.

Arcade slipped his hand over hers, and he gently took the inhaler from her grasp.

"I usually give patients a sleep aid to help with this, but I don't have them readily available anymore. So... I'd suggest you take a few swigs of rum from that flask of yours, lie down, and get a few hours of shuteye. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you're even losing weight. Living without sleep will eventually kill you, and jet is only going to speed up that process." Arcade explained in a soft, comforting voice.

"Why are you..." Sandra mumbled.

"Because I care." Arcade said. "I care a lot. It's a curse, I'm afraid. Here..."

He slid off his Followers overcoat and folded it into a pillow-like shape, then placed it on the floor beside Sandra.

"Get some sleep." Arcade told her. "Please."

Sandra considered arguing with him, but there was no point. Instead, she curled up on his folded coat as he instructed. The coat was still warm, and she found his scent oddly soothing.

For the first time in a very long time, she drifted into an undisturbed slumber.

* * *

When morning came around, Boone and Niner were hunched against the door with their ears pressed against it. They were listening very intently, trying to determine how many of the mutants were outside, and where they were.

Raul was lying on his makeshift bed, and Sandra had tried to cover herself with Ulysses' sleeveless duster. Arcade was lying parallel to her, his head resting atop his folded overcoat as well as hers, his arms folded together in an attempt to trap in warmth, and his glasses hanging halfway off his face. When Sandra's eyes drifted open, she came face to face with the back of Arcade's head, his hairs poking at her nose.

"There's only two of them..." Boone determined, holding up his rifle. "We can take two, no problem."

"Right mate, but uh... the one called Tabitha is gonna be pretty raffled." Niner replied. "She's ticked about us stealing her pet mechanic, so she's the one we gotta watch out for, yeah?"

"Yeah." Boone nodded. "They're just outside the door. On the count of three. One..."

They both raised their guns.

"Two..."

They tightened their grasps, their fingers barely grazing the triggers.

"THREE!"

Boone undid the lock, and Niner kicked the door open.

Outside, as predicted, was a massive nightkin wearing heart shaped glasses and a very hideous blonde wig. Beside her was another nightkin holding a sledge hammer, and before either of the giants could make their move, Boone and Niner unleashed their attack.

The sound of bullets startled Sandra, Arcade, and Raul all awake.

By the time all three of them were on their feet, the last of the nightkin had hit the ground dead.

"Thursday - wha - hah? What happened?!" Arcade stammered as he fumbled outside. "Holy... oh... holy crap..."

"YES!" Boone and Niner both rejoiced, delivering another loud highfive to each other.

"Huh. Guess that means we're free to leave." Raul said with a shrug. "I'll go grab my bag..."

Sandra grinned. Boone and Niner were getting along famously as of late. Hopefully, it would stay that way.

They all began the walk down Black Mountain, and this time, it was much quieter.

"Hoh' man, that was nuts." Niner said. "Ah man, I could use some steady after that. You up for a hit, Six?"

"Uh..." Sandra responded. "No, not right now."

"More for me." Niner pressed a needle into his arm, then tossed the syringe aside. "Mmmm... oh yeah, that's nice."

"That stuff will kill you faster than radiation is killing me." Raul said to Niner. "Think about that. That chem kills faster than radiation. What does that tell you...?"

"Tells me you never learned how to have fun and enjoy life." Niner replied with a laugh. "Am I right, Six? Am I right?"

Sandra didn't reply.

"So, anyway... who are you?" Arcade asked Raul. "Are you sticking around, or do we need to escort you somewhere? We're supposed to be looking for the Brotherhood, but we got sidetracked when we heard you on the radio. Do we need to put our plans on hold?"

"Nah, I'm game to go where ever you're all going." Raul replied. "I've got nowhere special to be. Anywhere's better than being Tabitha's property."

Sandra pulled a scoped 44 magnum from her bag and handed it to Raul.

"I found that in the Sierra Madre." Sandra told him. "I just haven't gotten around to selling it yet. You'll make better use of it than me, though."

"Oh yeah." Raul examined the revolver. "Oh yeah, this is perfect..."

Once they all reached the road again, daylight had taken over the world completely, though it was still difficult to see through the occasional mound of sand in the air. They were right beside Quarry Junction, and the place was shrouded entirely in sandstorms.

"Well... we could keep going until we reach Sloan, but I'm not sure if they'd have enough room for us in the barracks." Arcade suggested. "It's a small place. Still, it's not like we have any real leads on the Brotherhood's location. We're just going on sightings and rumors. Maybe we could ask around Sloan, see if anyone's seen..."

Arcade trailed off, his eyes fixating on the road leading north. He stared over Sandra's shoulder, his mouth dropping open.

Everyone spun around, all of them wondering what Arcade was staring at.

In the sand clouds, four human shaped figures emerged from further down the road. At first, Sandra thought they might have been a group of NCR soldiers or rangers, but when they got closer, she spotted the sporty red armor, the tribal skirts, and the dog's head worn by the leader of the frumentarii.

Boone and Arcade were the first to draw their weapons.

Vulpes Inculta marched forward in a seemingly calm manner, glaring at Sandra from behind his goggles.

"I've been on your trail for nearly two months now." His voice was low, dark, more menacing than Sandra remembered it, and it quivered ever so slightly with each syllable he spoke. "You... you're responsible. You're the one who killed Lord Caesar."

Sandra gulped. This didn't seem like the same person she met in Nipton, or on the strip. Vulpes was usually very calm, very mysterious, and very composed. But now, he seemed off somehow. Less restrained. Less contained. The frumentarius' anger could have been radiating from his body. She could almost feel it.

"What're you talking about?" Sandra asked. "I didn't kill anybody. Last time I was in the Fort, I left with the platinum chip, and Caesar was still alive."

"A man doesn't just _drop dead_ of his own accord." Vulpes took a step forward. "You showed up in my Lord's camp, and only minutes after you leave, a sniper kills him. A sniper that we were never able to find. I'm not a dimwitted fool, so don't take me for one. I _know_ you orchestrated his assassination. You will die for your crimes against the Legion."

Sandra bit her lip. Vulpes had his ripper on one hip and a pistol on the other, while his three followers carried only rippers and machetes. Between all of them, they only had one firearm, yet they seemed to be very sure of themselves, very certain that they could kill Sandra's team of fully armed companions. She didn't doubt their fighting abilities, but did they really plan to withstand a barrage of bullets and laserfire? Did they consider themselves to be inhumanly strong? Or was Vulpes' planning and leadership simply lacking due to his jarred state of mind? Sandra couldn't know for sure.

"Hey fuckwad." Boone said, aligning his scope with Vulpes' chest. "My name is Craig Boone, husband of Carla Boone. I'm the one who blew off Caesar's head, and I'm goddamn proud of it. You monsters can only destroy so many families before it comes back to haunt you."

"Oh, really..." Vulpes advanced, his hand tightening around the handle of his ripper. "Well... Craig Boone... my name is Revenge, and I'm here to save my name."


	13. Holding Out For Retribution

_ZzzzZzzt._

The ripper swung through the air in a flash.

BANG.

Boone fired, but due to Vulpes' rapid movement, he only managed to shatter a piece of the Fox's armor, grazing his side.

It began.

One of the Legion assassins lunged at Arcade, who hammered the trigger of his LAER. The blue laserfire hit the Legionary squarely in the chest, burning a hole directly through the man's body and killing him before he hit the pavement.

A second Legionary, one who Arcade hadn't been paying attention to, kicked the LAER out of his arms.

Boone attempted to fire at the Fox again, but Vulpes had already bolted towards Arcade.

The third Legionary sprung on Boone from behind; they both fell to the ground, and his sniper rifle landed yards away from them. Boone struggled with the Legionary on the cement, and Raul, who didn't have any bullets for his 44 magnum yet, picked up a tire iron and began whacking at the man who was wrestling with Boone.

Vulpes clamped onto Arcade and rammed his knee into the doctor's stomach. They both fell to the ground as well, and Vulpes sat on top of Arcade, his hands wrapping around his throat in an attempt to squeeze the life out of him.

Sandra fought down a rising panic. Boone and Arcade were on the ground, Raul's blows weren't affecting the Legionary he was targeting (due to the Legionaries all wearing thick helmets and armor), and Niner simply couldn't align a clear shot of any of the enemies without endangering the others. Sandra wouldn't be able to line up a clear shot, either. Something needed to be done, and fast.

 _But what? What the hell can I do right now?!_

Her eyes darted around the environment as if searching for a solution to her impossible predicament. Around them was Sloan, Black Mountain, the open desert, and...

Quarry Junction.

 _Yes._

"Hey ASSHOLES!" Sandra bellowed, sliding into the sand and opening her arms in a very presenting way. "Guess what? I KILLED LORD CAESAR! I LIED TO HIS FACE, AND I'M THE REASON HE'S DEAD! AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE? HE DIED LIKE A BITCH! _HA!"_

Everything stopped.

All of the Legionaries' attention zeroed in on Sandra.

Vulpes ceased strangling Arcade and perked up, his goggles having been torn off and his eyes wild with fury.

Vulpes stomped on Arcade's chest as he shot up to his feet.

"KILL THE COURIER!" He ordered, pointing at her. "KILL HER _NOW!"_

That was her cue; Sandra dashed into the sandstorm that enveloped Quarry Junction, and the Legionaries all made after her.

 _It's working,_ she thought as her muscles propelled her forward and the sand stung her eyes. _I mean, I'm completely screwed now, but at least I got them away from my friends..._

In the Quarry, two fully grown deathclaws took notice of the strangers entering their territory. They both stood on a hill, their claws extending and their teeth baring.

Stealing a glimpse over her shoulder, she caught sight of Vulpes, who was hot on her tail, his eyes flaring an evil blue and his legs springing at an almost inhuman pace. She had never seen anyone so furious before in her life.

When she looked forward again, her heart could have stopped.

In front of her stood a humongous deathclaw, its white eyes narrowing at her.

Sandra hit the ground; she skidded on her stomach across the sand, and somehow, she managed to slide directly between the monster's legs. Once she made it past the creature, she pushed herself upward and began running again.

Vulpes was able to hear the roars of the deathclaws behind him, followed by the horrific screams of his teammates. The other Legionaries weren't fast enough. They were being slaughtered, but it didn't matter to him. The only thing he cared about now was catching up to the redheaded wench that had killed his Lord and master.

Everything ached. Her eyes were burning and her legs might give out at any second.

Sandra kept at her pace until spotting something that halted her in her tracks - something more terrifying than even Vulpes Inculta.

It stood at ten feet, or maybe higher, its dinosaur-like body towering over the center of the Quarry. The monster spread its arms, its claws extending for days. This deathclaw was a dark green, with horns that lie over the back of its head in a way Sandra had never seen before. She stood rooted to the spot, petrified.

Vulpes slammed into her from behind. He tackled her to the ground and coiled his fingers around her throat, mounting her and squeezing the air from her windpipe, his face twisted in rage as he glared down at her.

"You... will die... knowing... _retribution!"_

Sandra gaped at him, but she couldn't make words. Only she saw the gigantic hand over his head.

Vulpes wasn't aware of the monster's presence until its enormous claws delivered a swift, harsh _SLASH._

The frumentarius went flying; his armor fell apart in chunks, and his coyote headdress was in shreds. Vulpes' body was tossed into a huge boulder like a rag doll, and he hit the ground, lying motionless in the sand.

Sandra scrambled to her feet.

The mother deathclaw's attention was on Vulpes. Even though he was no longer moving, the beast seemed to want him out of commission entirely. The deathclaw went to lunge her claws at him a second time, but then-

 _BANG._

Sandra fired off a shot, and the mother deathclaw let out a wailing screech. Her hand went limp, a gaping, bloody hole in the center of it where the 12 gauge round had pierced.

The mother deathclaw rounded on her, growling a low, menacing rumble.

Sandra opened fire.

The familiar _ching_ -ing noise of Charon's combat shotgun rang through the air.

Its torso was penetrated, and Sandra's last few shots were aimed higher, towards the creature's skull.

It happened.

The middle of the skull seemed to cave in on itself, and there was an eruption of bone and gore.

At that, the mother deathclaw crumbled; Sandra jogged backwards several feet in order to avoid being hit by the falling body.

A silence fell.

The mother deathclaw perished, and there didn't seem to be any more deathclaws around. The other Legionaries were dead, while Sandra's friends were presumably recuperating back near the road. In the middle of the Quarry was the courier and the frumentarius, nobody else. Now, there was only one thing that needed to be taken care of.

Sandra approached Vulpes, who lie crookedly against a rock, his exposed chest and stomach bearing three horrible gashes and oozing blood onto what was left of his Legion attire. His headdress was gone, revealing his clean-cut black hair, and he stared up at her groggily, scowling and waiting for her to make a move.

It was almost easy; Sandra's first instinct was to place the barrel against his forehead and end him, no questions asked. That's what she always did to anyone to crossed her nowadays. So then, why was she lowering her gun? What was stopping her?

"Go on, then." Vulpes croaked raspily. "Do it, weakling."

Sandra gulped.

"KILL ME!" Vulpes commanded.

Sandra didn't move.

Vulpes grasped his wounds, blood covering his hand and oozing between his fingers. He slumped over, and his consciousness abandoned him.

* * *

It could have been the afterlife, for all he knew.

His body was incredibly sluggish, and he felt more tired than he ever had before. Was this death? Was this what it was like to leave one's body? This overwhelming sleepiness, this paralysis? Why couldn't he move?

When Vulpes' eyes drifted open, he was no longer lying in the sand. Around him was darkness, and he sat against a moist wall of dirt in a small, secluded cave surrounded by deathclaw eggs. Sandra sat by his side, finishing the bandaging process after having disinfected his injuries. Sandra had given him a dose of Arcade's specially made med-x, so Vulpes would not only be feeling less pain, but he also wouldn't be able to put up a fight if he decided to cause trouble for her.

"You wretched..." Vulpes groaned, trying to sit upright and finding himself unable to.

"Shut up." Sandra said. "You're welcome."

"How dare you." He rasped. "You kill my Lord, you compromise my Legion... the only hope for mankind... and you have the nerve to take pity on me... how _dare_ you..."

Sandra dropped her medical supplies and gave him a long, studying stare.

"You know, I'd call you pathetic, but it's not your fault you're brainwashed." She said. "For you... you probably had to join the Legion just to survive. They kill anyone who doesn't conform to them. Very noble. Of course, that's nothing compared to the pillaging, the raping, and the slavery."

"Don't you _dare_ slander my Legion..."

"Oh please. You really think your Legion was worth a damn?"

"Shut your filthy mouth."

"No, _you_ shut it, and you listen." Sandra planted a hand on his stomach over top of his gauze, hitting one of his wounds and making him jolt. Her eyes burned into his. "You were a waste with Caesar. I get that the guy was smart, and he was good at leading armies or whatever - but he didn't give a damn about you. You know what he said to me right before he died? He offered to pay me if I managed to kill you in the arena. He was willing to throw your life away just for entertainment. It made me wonder why he'd be willing to throw away his best spy, but then I remembered the little story about the Twisted Hairs that he told me, and it started making sense. You've got this rebellious streak that he didn't care for, ya' see? That's why you were expendable to him. Because you actually thought for _yourself_ every once in a while. He couldn't have free thinkers in his Legion. He would've found some way to dispose of you, maybe send you off on a suicide mission like he did all his other useless frumentarii. Ever wonder why none of them came back from Utah? Caesar knows that Utah is a death sentence for Legionaries. That's how he weeds out the ones he doesn't want in his army anymore. The rebels, or the slackers. When he didn't feel like crucifying them, he'd ship them off to Zion to die at the hands of Joshua Graham."

"I am the greatest of his frumentarii. He would have been a damn fool to dispose of me." Vulpes snarled.

"Exactly. He _was_ a damn fool." Sandra replied. "He didn't value your life. He doesn't value anyone's life. That's why he was a bad leader. That's why..."

 _That's why we killed him,_ Sandra thought. _He was a tyrant. The bad kind. And there was no way we were gonna let him take Hoover Dam._

Vulpes stared into nothingness, his anger simmering down. He didn't have the energy to fume anymore, even though he very much wanted to.

"I had a friend like you once." Sandra said, wrapping her arms around her legs. "He was a tough guy, too. Totally loyal to his master, even though the person he served was a jackass. He had a mind of his own, though. Once he was free of his old master, he went and murdered the guy. My friend knew that his master wasn't a good person, because he had a mind of his own. I'm willing to bet you do, too."

"You think I'd betray him..." Vulpes uttered.

"He betrayed you when he burned your tribe, when he formed his Legion. He betrayed you when he was willing to kill you just because you're not a complete drone." Sandra told him. "Arcade and Boone would have my head if they knew we were having this conversation, but I... I think I understand the situation you're in. You're a wicked motherfucker. You've done some fucked up things. But... so have I. I have a chance now. I have a chance to make up for it, and to make Vegas better. We both do."

Vulpes scoffed.

"Just hear me out." Sandra turned and faced him. "I have the chance to... well... take over Vegas. And you, with Caesar gone, you can do the same for the Legion. Mr. House and Caesar are both out of the picture. You understand why I spared you? Without a leader, the Legion will fall apart. They'll turn into the worst kind of raiders, or they'll follow Legate Lanius, and that's even worse. But you... you're a tactician, not a bloodthirsty maniac. If you don't let yourself get drunk with power, you can lead the Legion. You can make them better, if you try."

"That is unbelievably idealistic." Vulpes stated.

"The Legion's whole existence is idealistic." Sandra said. "What Caesar and Joshua accomplished in their lifetimes is amazing, even though it went bad. They formed the Legion because they set their minds to it. You can do the same thing. You can reform them."

"I don't know what makes you think I'd do anything differently than my Lord." Vulpes replied. "I'd run the Legion the way he did. We'd purify the wasteland in the name of Mars. We _will_ purify it... ugh..."

"Think about that." Sandra went on. "Think about that fairy tale he told you. Do you really believe that? Do you really think he was a god? He died from a bullet to the brain, just like any ordinary man. The Legion isn't a symbol of purity. From the outside, you're all just feared and hated. You can't cleanse the world of moral dissolution when you're constantly spreading it around yourselves, betraying tribes and enslaving innocent people. Don't you get what I'm saying? You have to see everything that's wrong with the Legion. _You_ can fix it, because God knows Lanius won't. Lanius would make it ten times worse."

"Betraying, orchestrating, killing... those are all my forte's, woman. I _love_ to enact my Legion's justice." Vulpes hissed. "There's nothing that could change my mind. You spared me for a negotiation? Shouldn't have wasted your time. No... you should have killed me."

There was a pause.

Sandra observed him.

"So, tell me something." She said. "Why didn't you kill _me_ when you had the chance?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Vulpes murmured.

"The first time we met, when I was traveling from the Capitol." Sandra continued. "I met a group of scavengers in Denver, and the Legion raided them. You were there. You killed everyone, and I... I only remember seeing your face... but... why didn't you kill me too?"

Vulpes glared at her.

"You're mistaken." He answered. "I didn't kill everyone. You did."

Sandra narrowed her eyes at him.

 _Oh yeah,_ she recalled. _I found a fat man and I blew everyone to hell. Then, Vulpes caught me right when I collapsed. I almost died, but he..._

"You _saved_ me." Sandra remembered.

"I saw potential." Vulpes replied. "You murdered your enemies and your allies all at once just to ensure your own survival. That was formidable for a profligate, especially a woman. It was... respectable."

"You sure about that?" Sandra asked. "You sure you didn't just spare me because you wanted to?"

"Tch. Why would I _want_ to spare you? Or anyone, for that matter?"

"Because you're a human being, and even _you're_ capable of compassion."

"I have no concept of compassion."

"Yeah, I know. That's Caesar's fault. You have the chance to mold your own doctrine now, though. Compassion isn't weakness. You need compassion if you want to be a balanced leader. That was Caesar's problem."

"Would you shut up about that..."

"No."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"I woke up an army of Securitrons when I was at the fort." Sandra informed. "All with the MKII operating system. Devastating explosives on top of their machine guns. So, take it from me; the Legion isn't a threat to me anymore. I've got hundreds of indestructible sleeper cells underground right beneath the Legion's camp. I could kill all of them whenever I want."

"Don't you _dare-"_

"Shut up, I'm not done. Do you think we'd be having this conversation if I wanted to wipe the Legion out? They deserve a chance. Everyone deserves a second chance. I'm not just opening a negotiation. If you let the Legion fall under Lanius' rule... we will end them. We won't have a choice."

"Only half of the Legion is in Nevada." Vulpes said. "You'd have one hell of a surprise crossing the dam if you tried to pull a stunt like that."

"I still think we outnumber them." Sandra countered. "I'm pretty sure we'd win that fight. But I don't _want_ that. That's what I'm saying. I'll work on Vegas, and you work on the Legion. We can fix them both together."

"You're a child." Vulpes spat. "You sound like a blasted child when you say things like that."

Sandra was suddenly reminded of Charon and Mr. Burke, who both, four years ago, often told her the same thing. It made her smile.

"You know it could work. After all that Caesar and Joshua accomplished forming the Legion, anything's possible. You won't be assembling the entire Legion. You'll just be touching it up. Maybe tell the soldiers that there is no son of Mars, and go from there. Make a new belief system. Something that's actually... y'know... true. Fight for loyalty. Fight for the man by your side. Fight for your family. Stuff like that."

"Legionaries are not disloyal."

"Maybe not to their cause, but their cause is destructive. They should be loyal to each other, not Caesar's ridiculous religion."

"You really think I'd go along with this..."

"I think it's your only option." Sandra told him firmly. "If the Legion doesn't change, eventually, we're gonna have to eliminate them. I won't kill you here and now, but you'll die with your Legion if you don't make a change. I'm not gonna let them hurt my friends, no matter what."

Her fingers stroked the burn mark on her wrist. She tried not to look at it.

When she was about to continue speaking, a noise occurred.

Beside her, one of the deathclaw eggs began to wiggle. The shell crackled, and a tiny, slimy head poked out. The creature had shiny black eyes unlike most deathclaws. Its little paws groped at the air as it tried to climb out of its eggshell. It looked up at Sandra and opened its mouth, making a few muffled squeaks.

"Holy..." Sandra gasped. "Oh my God... it..."

Her hands slid under its arms, and she lifted the baby deathclaw like an infant.

"It's _adorable!"_

Sandra marveled at the newborn creature. Vulpes stared at her as though he'd never seen anything quite like her before.

"You're a lunatic." He mumbled.

Sandra didn't reply to him.

His tiredness swept over him again, and everything went dark.

* * *

He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, or how much time had passed since he did. The sun was beating down on his body relentlessly...

Vulpes pushed himself up, only to find that he was sitting in the middle of the road to Sloan. It was late in the morning. The night had come and gone already, and the courier was nowhere to be seen. She must have dragged him out of Quarry Junction and left him here. The pavement underneath him burned the palms of his hands to the touch. His fingers grazed against something by his side. Something small and metal.

A vault 13 canteen sat on the ground next to him, filled with fresh purified water.


	14. The Inheritance

"This is ridiculous."

Boone was the first to break the silence after hours of walking. The Courier Army's run-in with Vulpes Inculta, the Legion assassins, and the mother deathclaw was the last thing on anyone's mind; it had been two weeks since Sandra and Vulpes were nearly killed in Quarry Junction, and now, everyone had stopped off in Novac for a much needed break. They still didn't have any luck finding the Brotherhood's fabled Hidden Valley, and now, nobody wanted to look for it anymore. Everyone needed a rest.

"Um..." Arcade uttered when they entered Sandra's hotel suite. "There are five of us, and only one bed. How are we supposed to..."

"We'll have t'buy another room, I guess. Or maybe two. Or three." Niner commented.

"We don't have the money for that." Boone, who was more annoyed by the long and fruitless journey than anyone, griped. "I'll go sleep in my room."

Boone left everyone's company before anyone could argue. He and Sandra, unlike everyone else, had a permanent room here in the Novac hotel.

"I'll go poke around town, see if anyone has work." Raul said, then turned on his heel and departed the room behind Boone.

"Okay... I guess I'll go walk around the town, see if I can find something we can use as sleeping bags." Sandra mumbled, examining her sack of caps and finding that she only had about ten to spare. "There might be some old blankets in the dumpsters or something. I'll be right back."

"I'll go with ya' Six." Niner offered.

Sandra and Niner left the room, Sandra with her baby deathclaw lying on top of her head. Her friends had been rather shocked to see that she'd adopted a newborn deathclaw, but by now, they were all used to it. She still hadn't thought of a name for it, though.

Arcade, having been left alone in the room, sighed and laid on the bed, picking up a magazine from the nightstand and flipping through it aimlessly. He wanted to join Sandra and Niner, but he decided not to. Sandra and Niner would always break away from the bulk of the group whenever they wanted to take a little chem break, and although Arcade didn't approve of their actions, he couldn't rightfully order them to stop. Still, the physical changes in Sandra hadn't gone unnoticed by the doctor; over the last few weeks, the curvy courier had lost a great deal of weight, and her cheeks and eye sockets looked more sunken in than they had when he first met her. Niner looked to be a long-time chem user, but Sandra must have been new to the drug scene. The chems were affecting her much more than they were Niner, from what he could tell.

Arcade couldn't command her to stop using the drugs, but that didn't mean that he had to play witness to the act all the time. Joining them on their chem breaks was basically like endorsing the reckless behavior, and he didn't want to watch the two of them poison themselves.

Meanwhile, Niner came to an abrupt stop in front of Sandra when they reached the hotel balcony. He reached into his satchel and groped around until finding the old t-shirt that he used to keep his chems secure from the rest of his belongings. Inside the ancient cloth wrapping was a single dose of Steady.

"It's almost sad," Niner said, staring down into the needle. "I never thought my stash would run so low. D'you have any, Six?"

"Nah. All I have is stims." Sandra replied grimly. "We need some money."

"Raul said he was gonna look for work, dinn't he?"

"Yeah, but we need money right now. Like... RIGHT now."

"You itching for a chem break?"

"Yeah."

"Well, here, we'll split this one."

"No, you take it. I'll get mine when we get some caps."

Sandra was annoyed, but she didn't want to take Niner's last hit from him. Besides, splitting a dose wouldn't work well for either of them. No, Sandra wanted a full dose to ease her nerves, and she'd do almost anything to make that happen.

"Okay, I have a couple of ideas." Sandra schemed. "You go scope out the dinosaur shop, then go look around at that medical tent, see if there's anything we can steal. Any unlocked safes, any chems lying around, any money, anything. Then later tonight, we'll go out and steal some shit. I'll go and ask Arcade if he can help me make some chems. We could get a fix, _and_ we could make some money by selling a few."

"Well, sure, but your mate ain't gonna help you make chems." Niner replied. "Dr. Gannon don't seem to like us using chems much."

"Well, we need money." Sandra said. "He might be okay with making chems if we get some money out of it. We need money for food, and water, and stuff."

"Alrighty, if you say so."

Niner walked off, and Sandra pushed open the door of her hotel room again.

"That was fast." Arcade said, leaning upwards and letting the magazine fall into his lap.

"I just wanted to ask you something." Sandra told him. "Would you help me make some chems?"

There was a small silence following these words.

Arcade squinted at her from behind his glasses. "Why?"

"For money." Sandra answered. "We need some quick caps. We've spent everything we've got over the past week."

"I thought you found some valuables when you were in the Sierra Madre? And what about that tech you lugged out of Big Mountain?"

"I sold most of that stuff. I mean, I could go back to Big Mountain and scavenge around, but it would take a while... and we need food... and a place for everyone to sleep tonight..."

"You want to make chems for money."

"Yeah."

"I don't think I believe you." Arcade stated. "Not completely."

"Why not?" Sandra wondered, already knowing the answer.

"Because you have a habit. An addiction." Arcade responded forwardly. "I don't feel comfortable aiding your bad habit. It's killing you, I hope you know."

"I really don't care." Sandra shrugged. "I probably should have died a long time ago anyway."

"How old are you?"

"23. Why does that matter?"

"Because you have your whole life ahead of you. Why would you say that you should've died a long time ago?"

Sandra ran her fingers over the scar on her wrist.

"Because..." She muttered. "It... I don't know. It's complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"Why're you asking?"

"Because I want to know."

"Oh, really? Remember when I asked you about yourself a few weeks back, and you totally blew me off?" Sandra countered. "You wouldn't tell me anything about yourself - so why should I tell you anything?"

Arcade frowned. Yes, a few weeks ago, Sandra had asked him a few personal questions, to which he'd replied _"Look, I appreciate that you're trying to be friendly, but I'd just rather not discuss it."_ However, Arcade had a good reason for keeping certain details about himself secret, and none of those reasons involved a drug addiction or anything else that was particularly life-threatening.

"Tell you what." He said, sliding his fingers under his glasses and massaging his eyes. "Tell me why it's 'complicated,' and I'll tell you about myself. Whatever you want to know. Alright? We've been traveling together for a while now. I think it's only fair that we swap stories with each other. We ought to know each other better if we're working on the same team. We're a team effort working towards Vegas' independence. We need to be clear with each other from now on. Fair?"

Sandra nodded, skimming over her laser scar again and releasing a cloud of breath. Part of her wanted this, wanted to be closer to her companions, wanted them to know everything about her... but whenever she'd revisit the thought of the Jefferson Memorial, of the purifier, of the Capitol Wasteland... her memories would overwhelm her, and the voices of her friends would invade her mind again, tossing her into a fuzzy reality and making her relive her greatest fears in the form of nightmares. It wasn't an easy thing to talk about.

Her mouth opened, and she tried to elaborate, but nothing came out. Arcade scooted to the side and patted on the bed covers beside him. Sandra sat next to him, took a deep breath, and tried to explain herself.

"I... it was four years ago, out in the Capitol Wasteland." Sandra started. "I grew up in a vault. Vault 101. My dad ran away one day, and I followed him. I found out what he was doing... trying to get his old purifier working, so he could distribute water all over the wasteland for everyone..."

"Sounds noble." Arcade said.

"Yeah." Sandra agreed. "He was a good person. Until... when I finally found him, we started working on the purifier together... he and I, and some of my friends... and we... we were doing good. We were almost done repairing it, and then... the Enclave came."

Arcade gulped, a severe expression daunting on him. "The Enclave, huh."

"The pre-war government, the remnants of America's government from 200 years ago..." Sandra said. "They... they ruined everything. They showed up... killed my dad... and they tried to take everything away from us. They took the purifier, so... me and my friends, and the rest of the scientists... we went to the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood is different out there. They were good guys. The Lyon's Pride... and we worked together... and eventually, we were able to take the purifier back. Man, there was a huge war... it was amazing... Brotherhood, Enclave, and wastelanders all fighting at once... and Liberty Prime was there, too. And... my friends showed up... tried to save me..."

Sandra paused. She hadn't yet mustered up the courage to say Charon's name.

"There was... one guy... my best friend." Sandra said softly. "He was grumpy as hell... and I was a stupid kid, as happy and dumb as could be... and he'd save my ass whenever things got bad. He and I got into a fight, and we went our separate ways... but when the war started, he showed up, and he saved me again. The purifier was full of radiation. I was about to go inside and shut it off. It would've killed me, but he..."

Her hand met her scar once more, stroking the crooked ridges of skin along her wrist.

"He went in instead." Sandra told the doctor. "He was a ghoul, so I thought he'd be fine. The radiation wouldn't kill him. But then... the console completely exploded, and he... he was killed... the explosion killed him... such a senseless, pointless death..."

Her fingers tightened around her wrist so hard her nails began to dig into her scarred skin.

"I should've gone inside before he could stop me." Sandra growled. "It should have been me."

"Oh, I don't know." Arcade said. "Sounded like he really wanted to protect you. He didn't have any regrets."

"Yeah, but..."

"Let me ask you something. You had a fight, and he came after you anyway - that speaks volumes of the guy's character, especially nowadays - now, how do you think he'd feel if you would have died that day? He would've fought his way there for nothing."

"I know, I just... wanted him to be happy." Sandra murmured. "He... he was under a contract. He was a slave for a really long time, and he just... he didn't think that anyone could care about him. I wanted to prove him wrong... wanted to show him that I cared... and I never got the chance to..."

"Oh, I don't believe that. This person fought his way across the wasteland and jumped into a war to protect you. Sounds to me like you left an impression on him." Arcade told her. "I know it's not easy to lose someone. Believe me, I know. But, you can't just sit around and drink the thoughts away. The way you're living now - the drinks, the chems - it makes me think that you're trying to drown all your memories of him. Literally."

There was a moment of silence. Arcade's eyes drifted down to Sandra's wrist.

"The Enclave did that to you, huh." He said. "That's a nasty scar. Looks like something from a laser powered weapon."

"I have a few scars like this. This one's the biggest." Sandra replied, holding up her wrist for display. "I was so... high. That was the first time I took a bunch of chems at once, and the last time. I was getting shot left and right, didn't even feel it. I didn't care."

"That's the problem." Arcade told her profoundly. "You _need_ to care."

"Why?"

"Because, you and I are supposed to save Vegas. I have to know that we're actually gonna _get_ somewhere, and that I won't find you lying dead in a gutter one morning after an overnight Slasher overdose."

"I'll be careful, alright? I just need to take the edge off sometimes."

"Okay, just... take it easy. Don't use the chems so often. I've watched that junk rip entire communities apart, and last time I checked, that was the last thing you wanted to happen. We're supposed to be fixing things, not making them worse. Plus, you... I just don't want you killing yourself."

Sandra nodded.

Arcade released an audible sigh. "Well, I'm done being Dr. Gannon the therapist. I'm no good at it."

"Nah, you're doing pretty good. It's nice to have someone to talk to for a change." Sandra responded. "Your turn."

Arcade blinked. "My turn?"

"Yeah, you said you'd give me some backstory if I told you about myself."

"Oh, well... I mean, you really wanna do that right now? Aren't you hungry, or something...?"

"Come on, don't blow me off again. Tell me about yourself. Give me something."

"Alright, alright. I'm in my thirties, lost my dad when I was young and never got over it, and I like reading about failed socio-economical policies. That good? Can we go find some food now, or maybe a cot to sleep in?"

"Dammit! I just poured my heart out, Gannon! Tell me more!"

"I don't know what else to say!"

"Oh yeah?" Sandra said threateningly, waltzing over to her old cabinet and pulling out a single bottle of vodka. "How good do you think my leadership skills are, Arcade? You think I could organize an alliance between the NCR and independent Vegas one day? I know how to relate to the people. See?" She upturned the bottle and, rather than taking any shots, began to drink the vile liquid like it was a soda, gulp after gulp.

Arcade narrowed his eyes at her. "What're you doing?"

"This is Vegas we're talking about. Everyone in Vegas is a drunken, chem-addicted whore." Sandra laughed between slurps. "I'll be a great leader as long as I'm hammered all the time. Hell, I think I'll go to Red Rock Canyon and set up a deal, have them ship me chems once a week when I'm running Vegas. That'll keep me in tip-top shape for running a country, I tell you what."

"You're not serious..."

"I'm not? What, you don't think I'd do it?" Sandra challenged, taking another few swigs, the liquor burning her lips.

"I know you would. That's what terrifies me." Arcade said, a notable tremor in his tone. He honestly _was_ afraid of what she might do if she jumped into a position of power in her current state, dependent on drugs and alcohol and completely dismissive of her own personal safety.

"Niner's scoping out good places to rob for chems right now." Sandra chuckled. "This is only the beginning. The courier's reign of terror over Vegas! Ha!"

"Alright!" Arcade stood and snatched the bottle away from her. "Fine! I'll tell you whatever you want to know! Just stop it!"

Sandra didn't fight to get the bottle back. She simply stood with her hands planted on her hips, a sneering smile forming as she waited for him to say more.

"Okay, just... tell me what you want to know." Arcade moaned.

"Well..." Sandra thought on it. "I told you a really big turning point in my life. Maybe you tell me one of your big turning points."

The baby deathclaw, who was still sitting on Sandra's shoulders and lying over her head, squeaked at Arcade.

Sandra smiled and patted the baby deathclaw on the head. "See? He wants to hear a story, too. Come on, Arcade. Give the baby a bedtime story."

"Okay, I can do that. Let's see... whew... a turning point for me, I guess... would be when my mother died." Arcade said. "I was left alone, didn't really know what to do with my life, didn't have any plans. So, I went with the first thing that seemed practical. Medical science. Had a few... _ehm..._ partners over the years, but they weren't much more than a vain indulgence. Lovers make poor confidants. Especially when they're men."

"Men?" Sandra blurted out without thinking.

"Yeah, I'm uh... sort of... playing for both teams, if you haven't noticed." Arcade opened his arms, as if presenting himself as some strange attraction. "I mean, it's not like I haven't seen a pretty girl I'd like to... er... anyway, well... I tend to avoid women. Men are... simpler. Less restricting, less confusing... and they ask a lot less questions. Men are easier to please, too."

"Easier to _please?"_

"Oh, you know what I mean."

"No I don't. Please explain further, in excruciating detail."

"I'm a bisexual. There. That's all you're getting out of me."

"Oh, come on! Tell me more!"

"Nope."

"How many men have you-"

"We're not having this conversation."

"What does it taste like when y-"

"Shut _up!"_

"Um..." The door creaked open, and Niner stood in the doorway, looking flabbergasted.

Sandra and Arcade both looked to Niner.

"Wha' the hell are you two on about?" Niner asked. "Six, I thought you were gonna ask him about chems. I come in here and you're talkin' about slobbin' on his knob? I would've given you my last hit if I knew you wanted it that bad. Jesus."

 _"That's not what happened!"_ Sandra and Arcade both exclaimed.

"'Ey, man, it's your business." Niner held up his hands and took a step back. "I just came to tell you something, Six. There's an old man downstairs who's looking for you."

"What?" Sandra said. "An old man? What's he want from me?"

"No idea." Niner told her. "He said he was lookin' for courier six, said he needed an important delivery... uh... delivered."

Sandra and Arcade exchanged glimpses.

They all left the hotel room and headed down the balcony stairs. Whoever this old man was, hopefully he'd pay them some caps up front before asking Sandra to preform another delivery. She, and all of her friends, were positively exhausted, and they needed to relax for a night before hitting the road again. Still, someone was handing them a job on a silver platter, and now more than ever, Sandra needed the caps. Hopefully his job would be worthwhile.


	15. Ties That Bind

A lot of things ran through Sandra's mind during the short walk down the hotel stairs.

The things that had happened in Utah, in the Sierra Madre, in Big Mountain, and in the Divide - she never spoke of those events to her friends. Compared to her past, those adventures were benign at best, just dumb little trips into territories unknown just so that Sandra might score some valuable loot. It was intense, and she'd met some very notable people. Christine, God, Dean, The scientists of the big empty, the legendary burned man, and a mysterious courier named Ulysses. When she returned home from her endeavors, Sandra told her friends the story of the ex-Legion courier from the Divide, told them about the tech she stole from Big Mountain and the tribes she met in Utah - but nowadays, Sandra never talked about these events anymore, mainly because they seemed unimportant, the same reason she never talked about her encounter with the Legion four years ago, or her war against the Enclave back east. None of those huge, monumental events seemed at all huge or monumental to her, and now, after having talked to Arcade about the worst day of her life, she wondered why. Big events didn't stick with her the way they used to. Perhaps after Charon died, things stopped mattering to her. Perhaps after the loss of her best friend - and her father, and all of her other friends - in her mind, nothing mattered anymore.

 _I don't want to think that way anymore,_ Sandra thought to herself. _I want to be better than that now._

Niner stopped in front of one of the hotel rooms on the ground floor, Sandra next to him and Arcade on her opposite side.

"The old man was walkin' into this room when he stopped me, started talking my ear off. Couldn't get the old codger to stop yammering for ten minutes." Niner said, patting the door. "He lives in here, I think. C'mon."

Sandra knocked three times before gently pushing the door open.

Inside was a clean, well kept room, one that was more well taken care of than most of the others in this hotel. The bed had been neatly made, and across from the entrance, an old man in a sweater vest sat in a wheelchair, his arm hooked to an IV system that let off a gentle _beep, beep, beep_ -ing rhythm, the sound of the old man's heart beat. On the table beside him was a collection of chems, and leaning on his chair was a walking cane and two crutches. The old man looked up, squinting at the newcomers from behind his small glasses.

"You, there." He said to Sandra. "Yes, you... come here, please. Come closer."

Sandra obeyed the stranger and approached him cautiously, Arcade and Niner tip-toeing inside behind her.

"You... yes, I recognize you." The old man told her. "Ah... a regular courier would suffice, but you... well... this is fortuitous. You're a person of many parts, aren't you? I heard you cheated death. Left quite a mark around here. Nothing like being dug out of a shallow grave to give you perspective, eh?"

"What?" Sandra asked. "What do you know about me?"

"All this time... everything that you've done... the people you've killed... you can't control that story." The man replied in a soft, calm voice. "You may not realize it, young lady, but you're becoming the stuff of legend... whether you want to or not. If not for my infirm condition, I'd be apt to hear your take on things. But... time, I'm afraid, is... of the essence. You've made your choices, seen the consequences. I did much the same, long ago... in another life. I'm still paying for those choices. Couriers have a special role, one of trust. I hope you will maintain that fidelity, because this delivery is... I... can't put it off any longer."

Sandra bit her lip, saying nothing. Ulysses had said something similar when she met him, that couriers helped to maintain civilization at their basic roots. The importance of couriers was a popular opinionated topic, it seemed.

"I want you to deliver a package to a man in Westside. His name is Bradley." The old man informed. "In exchange, I will give you five hundred caps, all up front. Consider it a gesture of good will, and trust. Is the proposal satisfactory?"

"Definitely." Sandra confirmed. "I'll get it to him. Don't worry."

The old man's wrinkled face conformed into a smile. "As I expected... you are perfect for the job. Deliver this key..." He reached into his vest's chest pocket and slipped out an aged, silvery key that might have been gold plated at one point in time. "And, this letter..." His other hand pulled an envelope out from beneath a bottle of buffout on the table. "To Bradley, a mercenary under the employ of the Westside militia. Once the letter is delivered, you are free of any responsibility to me. However, if you elect to assist Bradley, I will be forever in your debt. I do hope that this will be an end to things, a... a just settlement. Good luck, courier. I... I would like to be alone now."

He placed a heavy sack of caps in Sandra's hands before adding the key and the letter to the bundle.

Sandra gave him a sad, lingering stare, then turned and left the room. She, Arcade, and Niner stepped outside and closed the hotel room's door behind them.

"That... oh, baby, just lemme feel that." Niner took the giant sack of caps and yanked it around, making it jangle loudly. "Oh, yes, we are gonna feast like kings tonight. I feel a Denver triple dog coming on!"

"No." Sandra snatched the caps away from Niner. "We need this money to make the trip, _and_ to buy an extra room for the night. We're gonna sleep, we're gonna eat, and then we're gonna leave first thing in the morning. We need to find this guy, Bradley."

"Aw, c'mon, Six! We've got enough there to make the trip without pinchin' pennies, don't we? That's five hundred caps!"

"We'll pay for our rooms, we'll stock up on supplies, and _then_ we'll feast like kings. Alright?" Sandra smirked. "Necessities first."

"Now we're talkin'." Niner snickered. "Now, since you've got a room on permanent reserve here... how come we can't just clear out all the useless furniture and replace it with some beds? That way, whenever we blow into town, we'll all have a place to sleep. We could have bunk beds."

Sandra and Arcade raised their eyebrows at Niner.

"That's not a bad idea." Sandra said. "Where do we get bunk beds?"

* * *

Sandra scrambled to put Niner's plan together in the hours following.

The couch and one of the dressers was thrown over the balcony (and nobody bothered to carry them off to a dumpster for the courtesy of the other towners), and Sandra followed Cliff, the owner of the Dino-Bite Gift Shop, off to Gibson's scrapyard. Cliff knew that Gibson had bunk beds lying in that old junkyard of hers, and the old woman didn't even charge Sandra for them. "Haul 'em off my property," she'd said. "They ain't gonna be bought by anybody, and they're an eyesore to boot."

Sandra didn't need help dragging the two sets of bunk beds up the road by herself, lugging one by each arm, the metal scraping against the asphalt terribly as she marched. She and Niner shoved the metal frames up the balcony stairs and somehow maneuvered them into the room with haste. When Sandra realized that they had no mattresses for the frames, Niner replied with a sneering grin, "Already took care of it, Six. Nicked a few mattresses from the other hotel rooms. Most of 'em are empty right now, anyhow. Besides, who's gonna punish us? Jeannie May is still laying out in the sun under the dinosaur. Looks like some radscorpions have been gnawin' on her corpse."

Sandra gave Niner a high-five, then removed the table from the side of the room and pushed her own bed up against the wall. Then, she was able to fit both of the bunk bed frames into the room, one of them beside the windows, and one of them against the wall where the cabinets once were. After slapping the mattresses onto them, Sandra departed the room once again in order to find some pillows and blankets for the new beds. It was exciting to fashion herself a small home for her friends, and she wanted them to be as comfortable as possible.

Boone and Raul appeared near the doorway when Sandra walked outside.

"The hell are you doing?" Boone asked, poking his head into the hotel room. "Renovations?"

"Yup." Sandra smiled. "You can sleep in here if you want, or you can go back to your room all by yourself. Your choice."

"Well, I followed a Caravan up to Boulder City and back." Raul said. "They gave me fifty caps for the guard duty. Might be able to afford a halfway decent meal for us tonight."

"We've got it covered." Sandra told Raul proudly. "I got a job, and the guy paid me up front. Keep your caps for the travels, Raul. We've gotta head north tomorrow."

"Y'know, Six, when we head up north, we can stop off at the Strip and cash in those two gold blocks you hauled outta the Sierra Madre." Niner said. "We'd be set for months."

"I'm not touching that gold unless we have a financial emergency." Sandra retorted. "I locked it in my safe, in my Lucky 38 suite, and nobody's touching it. Okay?"

"Where are we supposed to go tomorrow?" Boone inquired. "Is it a courier job?"

"Yeah." Sandra told him.

"He paid you up front for it?"

"Yup."

"Then, you already got all the caps out of this that you can." Boone said. "I think I'm gonna stay here. Find some work around town while you're gone. That way, we'll make a bit more money, and we can save some of it."

"Good thinking." Arcade replied.

"I might hang back, too." Raul cut in. "There've been caravaners in and out of town all day. I could make a bit more money being a gun for hire while you're off doing your courier thing."

"What about you guys?" Sandra turned between Niner and Arcade. "Are you staying here, or coming with me?"

"D'you even have to ask, Six?" Niner said. "Course I'm goin' with you. I can't be trusted with earnin' my own caps. You know that."

"Yeah, I'm staying with you, too." Arcade added. "Something tells me you'll need a doctor around if this adventure turns out to be more dangerous than you anticipate. Didn't that old man say something about you helping Bradley somehow? He might be sending the package recipient something dangerous."

Sandra pulled the letter from her pocket and bent it. "It doesn't feel dangerous. Just feels like paper."

"He gave you a key, too, didn't he?" Arcade said. "The old man's tone... didn't sound like he was just delivering a simple letter. No, it seemed like the package was really important to him."

"Who knows." Sandra shrugged and pocketed the letter again. "I guess we'll find out."

"Hey, you guys wanna play poker?" Niner asked everyone. "Anyone ever played Texas Hold 'Em?"

"Yeah, this might be the last time we're all together for a while." Sandra commented. "Let's play cards, or something. Somebody turn the radio on, I need some music! No, wait, hang on - I've got this."

Sandra played with the mp3's on her Pip-Boy, and a Nickleback song began to play. Niner grabbed the coffee table and placed it perfectly between the big bed and the two bunk beds, and everyone gathered around, sitting either on the floor or on the edge of one of the beds. Sandra unclicked her Pip-Boy and removed it from her arm, placing it on the nightstand behind her and allowing it to echo through the room like a radio as it jumped between Nickelback, AC/DC, Alice Cooper, and many other songs from bands that were virtually unheard of.

Arcade didn't express any interest in playing cards. He took the magazine he'd started reading earlier and made himself comfortable on a bottom bunk while everyone else took turns sipping on Sandra's vodka, cracking jokes, lighting cigarettes, and betting on their poker games - not with money, but with random little objects that they'd pull out of their pockets. Bobby pins, old necklaces or pendants, a couple of loose bullets, lighters, bundles of lint, and coins and such.

Sandra kept kicking Niner away from her. The two of them were seated close to one another on the floor, and Niner was trying to steal a peek of her cards occasionally. Boone and Raul had much better poker faces than either Sandra or Niner, the two of them much more well practiced than the courier or the junkie. Eventually, Niner scooted a little too close to Sandra.

"Back off," Sandra said. "Stop looking at my hand."

"I ain't lookin' at your hand." Niner replied with a mischievous smile. "It's kinda hard to focus on your hand when them sweater cows are breathin' right in my face."

Sandra had taken off Ulysses' duster, and she'd unzipped the vest that was underneath it. The hotel room wasn't air conditioned, and the air was getting stuffy, so she'd decided to cool off. Her sports bra was in plain view, and Niner's eyes were looming over her sweat-dampened cleavage almost hungrily.

Boone and Raul roared with laughter. Sandra tightened her hand into a fist and prepared to punch Niner as hard as she could, but Arcade - who was in a lying position atop his bed right behind Niner - thrusted his knee forward, hitting Niner directly in the back of the skull. Everyone laughed so hard they began to suffocate under their own chortles.

Once their first game was over, Raul left the hotel room in order to find everyone some food. The woman behind the front desk in the hotel's office - another Novac settler, who had taken over the hotel after Jeannie May's passing - agreed to give them customary room service in exchange for a generous thirty cap tip. A while later, the young brunet brought a large tray up to Sandra's room. which contained several ice cold Nukas and a humongous roasted hunk of bighorner meat. Sandra placed the tray on her bed, and everyone lazily sliced off a chunk of meat and munched on them without bothering to use plates, holding the meat chunks up on forks and nibbling on them like shish-ka-bobs. Sandra took a long swig of the delicious Nuka before fusing it with what remained of her vodka, the way she used to every time she'd visit the Muddy Rudder or Gob's saloon back out east.

"You're _how_ old, and you're drinking like a fish?" Boone chuckled. "If you get hammered, I'm letting you pass out of the floor."

"I can hold my own." Sandra grinned, placing her Nuka's bottle cap on the table. "I see your broken hairpin, and raise you a single cap."

"Oh, lookie here, we've got a high roller." Niner joked. "I'll bet my last hit o' Steady that you lose that cap."

"Put the drugs on the table, then." Sandra said. "Do it pussy, you won't."

"Damn right I won't. I need my precious. See, I bet Booney won't put his beret on the table." Niner cackled. "I bet he's got a full head of glorious blonde hair under that thing. He could have pink hair, for all we know. He never takes the damn thing off."

"Tch. I'm not betting my beret... and _don't_ call me fucking Booney." Boone grumbled.

They played another game, tossing things at each other and laughing as they did. The night lasted longer than any other night Sandra had spent with her new friends, and she wished it wouldn't end. Still, everyone eventually grew tired, and one by one, they began to retreat into their beds. Even after they were all lying down, they were conversing and trading jokes, sometimes dipping into their pasts and telling stories about themselves or their old friends. The alcohol had put Sandra's mind in a wonderfully content place, and lying on her big bed, wrapped up in blankets and listening to the voices of her companions, she drifted into a strangely comfortable sleep around three in the morning. Everyone would sleep through the morning, she knew that, but it was so worth it. After all, this had been one of the best nights of her life. Nothing seemed too big a price to pay for some quality time with her friends.

Such a familiar feeling, something she'd been unknowingly longing for, would bring about some familiar memories that these sensations of warmth and companionship were forever attached to in the deepest confines of the courier's subconscious.

* * *

Dogs.

Yapping, snarling, biting, foaming.

The scavengers and the Legionaries blew apart, and when Sandra's body gave out, Vulpes Inculta caught her before she could hit the ground. But, when she looked up, Vulpes wasn't the one holding her upright; Vulpes turned into Niner, and Sandra was able to smell the musk of cigarettes on him.

"Y'alright there, Six?" The junkie said. "Lookin' a bit peaky, there. Why you got such a big problem with the dogs, anyway? I like dogs..."

Sandra shoved away from him, suddenly finding her strength again and realizing that she wasn't in Denver anymore. She, Arcade, Niner, Boone, and Raul were all on the Strip, on their way to confront Benny and none of them seeming too concerned with their mission. It was night time, and the lights of the Strip were damn gorgeous as they brightened the darkness almost blindingly. Sandra was wearing Benny's suit, and the others had looted some old pre-war suits from Freeside, each of them looking far too dapper for their own good. Sandra had to look over her companions three times before realizing that Vulpes was among them, wearing his profligate disguise, his suit and his big gambler's hat...

Niner and Arcade were arguing about how many caps they should spend while they were on vacation, while Boone and Raul traded ideas for which casino they should visit. Vulpes paid them no mind. He looked to Sandra, his usual wicked smile forming along his narrow face.

"Yes... this place, even bathed in sin and debauchery, is favorable over that stinking cesspool of sickly scavengers and rabid dogs, isn't it?" Vulpes sneered. "I can see why you brought us here instead."

"Brought us here? What do you mean?" Sandra questioned.

"Dear, it's _your_ dream. You're in control. Haven't you realized?" Vulpes told her. "You took control, and you brought us all here, rather than facing that nuclear holocaust you created back in Denver. It's wonderful, is it not? When you take control. When you realize..." Somehow, Vulpes was behind her now, grasping her by the shoulders and whispering into her ear. "... that you have all the control in the world, that you can do whatever you set your mind to. You even killed Lord Caesar himself. There's nothing that you can't accomplish."

A chill slithered down her back at hearing this. Then, a thought occurred to her; if she was in absolute control of this world, then she could bring anyone she wanted here to the Strip, couldn't she?

Sandra spun around, and as she wished, there stood a young boy wearing a t-shirt with the Brotherhood of Steel logo stitched onto it, a mysterious man in a grimy tan suit, and a tall, red-skinned ghoul wearing leather armor and a constant scowl on his face. Behind her old friends stood her father, James, still wearing his vault jumpsuit and opening his arms up, trapping Sandra in a hug and holding her close. When they separated, she looked up at Charon, the same way she always used to. Charon was a head taller than her, standing at a good 6'5. She remembered his exact height, remembered how far she'd have to tilt her head to meet his milky blue eyes.

"Sandra!" Bryan Wilks exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you guys, too." Sandra replied.

"Hmmghn." Charon observed Sandra's companions, eyeing each of them closely before returning his attention to her. "Those are your new buddies, huh. They're alright. I guess."

Arcade, Niner, Raul, and Boone continued talking to each other as if they couldn't see or hear Sandra's old friends.

Vulpes crossed his arms and watched them all. He seemed to be the only one who noticed Charon, Bryan, James, and Mr. Burke's' presence.

"My, my..." Mr. Burke said, observing the buildings of New Vegas. "I never imagined a place like this. It's... wonderful."

"It would be better if you guys were here." Sandra told him.

"We _are_ here, sweetheart." James said, placing his hand over her heart. "We never left."

"Then... then why do I miss you so much?" Sandra cried. "It... it feels like I'm all alone."

At once, Arcade became aware of Sandra's conversation with her old friends and her father. The doctor approached her, pocketing his hands and giving her an almost offended expression.

"Alone?" Arcade said. "You're anything _but_ alone, you know. We're all here for you."

Sandra gazed into Arcade pleadingly, staring up at him with a saddened twinkle in her eyes. Arcade, like Charon, was a rather tall individual. She had to look upwards when she talked to both of them.

She turned to Charon again, his ghoulish face bearing a gaunt look, a frown, but not an angry one. He looked sad, like he was worlds away from her even though he stood right here, on the pavement of the Vegas strip, right in front of her. His hand raised, his fingers reaching to graze her cheek, to feel her touch, but when he did, Sandra felt her heart drop into her stomach.

 _You can't,_ she realized. _You're dead. You can't touch me. That's right... you're dead... you're not even here..._

Tears ran down her face. Sandra wanted more than anything to grasp his hand, to feel his flaky skin, to embrace him just one more time, but reality was returning to her far too soon. Charon was dead, and there was no rectifying that fact. He was gone from her forever.

"Stop it." Vulpes scolded her. "You're shattering the world around you with your doubts. Stop thinking. Let it consume you. You know you'd prefer this. You know that you'd rather live in a pleasing world, one with purpose, rather than facing your reality... the reality that all you ever cared for is gone forever. Run from it. Deny it. Continue to deny it, like you have been for four years. Don't move on. Don't dabble with your disgusting reality. You don't need reality. You need purpose. Your purpose is here. Stay asleep. Stay asleep..."

Sandra couldn't obey Vulpes. Try as she might, she simply couldn't hold on to the fantasy. James vanished, and Mr. Burke and Bryan disappeared seconds after. Sandra didn't blink, didn't take her eyes off Charon, hoping desperately that he wouldn't leave her again, but she knew that such a hope was a fruitless waste of time. Charon faded away, like a cloud dispersing into the air, and all at once, the world went dark. The casino lights all shut off one by one, and all of her Vegas companions disappeared as well. Only Vulpes' face remained in her view now, his eyes no longer calm, his voice no longer soothing. Just before Sandra would jolt herself awake in a sobbing cold sweat, Vulpes uttered something that made her heart feel like it had frozen over.

"Your doubts will destroy you."

* * *

"Sandra...?"

She wasn't sure when she'd sat bolt upright, her crimson bangs lying askew over her fact, her black bra glued to her body with sweat. Sandra had removed her shirts before hiding herself in the thick blankets, and she hadn't thought twice about it. It was such a comfortable sleep, she hadn't expected to be ambushed with a nightmare. Not tonight.

Niner, Boone, and Raul were all fast asleep on their respective bunk beds, but Arcade was knelt beside Sandra's bed. He surveyed her, a look of concern in his greenish-hazel eyes.

"You, um... you alright?" Arcade asked quietly. "You were talking in your sleep."

Sandra wiped her face, not caring that almost her entire upper half was exposed. Her skin was wet, and she couldn't tell if her cheeks were tear stained or simply coated in a layer of sweat, or possibly both.

"Sorry." Sandra groaned, shaking her head. "Sorry, I just... bad dream... nothing. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Arcade said. "You were tossing and turning a lot, muttering and whispering into your pillow..."

"I'm just..." Sandra sighed. "It was... my dad. My dad, and Charon."

"Charon?"

"Yeah, my... my friend from DC. The... the one who died."

"Oh..."

"My... my dad died back then, too. God, I... I wish it would just... go away." Sandra exhaled. "I don't know why it keeps... coming back. I don't know why it sticks to me like this. I don't..."

"Well, you grew up in a vault, safe and sound, sheltered from the world... then one day, you're thrown into the wasteland and forced to survive, and your father and your best friend are both killed." Arcade replied. "It's only natural that it impacted you so heavily. You'd never experienced a hardship like that before, at the time. Reality hit you all at once. You didn't stand a chance. None of us do, usually."

Vulpes' icy voice broke into her thoughts.

 _You don't need reality._

Sandra gulped. In the dream, she had actively resisted Vulpes' advice to abandon reality, to force it away and deny its existence and to embrace the fantasy instead of facing the real world. But why? The fantasy was everything she wanted, all of her closest loved ones, right by her side again, right where they belonged...

Why did she choose to force the fantasy away?

Was reality really worth more than the fantasy?

What, in Sandra's life, made her reality more valuable - more important - than her fantasy?

The baby deathclaw crawled timidly into her lap and curled into a ball between her crossed legs. Sandra stared at it, then shifted her gaze over to Arcade, who was hunched beside her bed, awake in the middle of the night and burdening himself with Sandra's problems out of worry. Niner, Raul, and Boone would do much the same if any of them were awake, and she knew damn well that they'd all have her back in a fight, too. These people were as loyal as they came, and they were her reality now. They were too good to ignore. Perhaps that was why she was able to abandon the fantasy; Sandra's reality wasn't so bad. Not anymore.

"I feel... guilty." Sandra murmured, not knowing why she said this, but not doubting it one bit. "I feel guilty for letting go and moving on. I don't want to forget Dad... or Charon..."

"Oh, now, come on..." Arcade said. "My parents both died when I was a kid. It's been decades, and I still haven't forgotten a single detail about them. Their faces, their scents, their brand of toothpaste. Trust me, no matter how far ahead you move on, the past _never_ gets left behind. Not if the memories are important. Certain things seem hazier as time goes on, but nothing important ever leaves us. The important memories define us. See... long term memory is the base core of our preconsciousness. When things are imprinted on that part of our minds - especially when you're young - those memories don't go away, even if they're skewed a little bit by time or perception. Some memories fade, but not the important ones. The important ones can never leave. They're the ones that made us who we are, when we were younger, when everything important to us impacted us deep to our cores."

Sandra smiled at him. "You got really sciencey just now."

"Yeah, well, everything involves science. That's how I make sense of life." Arcade laughed. "You can move on without forgetting. We all do it."

Sandra nodded, stealing glimpses of Niner, Boone, and Raul as they slept. Arcade's parents were dead, Niner's brother was killed, Boone's wife was sold off to the Legion shortly before she died, and Raul... Sandra hadn't asked Raul about his past yet, but considering that he was locked up alone in a building full of super mutants when she met him, he probably didn't have any living family members, either. All of them had lost loved ones, and Niner and Boone, just earlier in the evening, had traded stories about their families. How were they able to talk about their deceased loved ones so casually? Was it a boy thing, or was Sandra simply weaker than they were, too sensitive about the entire thing? Maybe she just needed to try harder. If they could do it, then there was no reason in the world why she shouldn't be able to.

"Try to get at least a little bit of sleep," Arcade said, sliding a bottle of purified water towards her over the surface of the nightstand. "We have a long walk tomorrow."

Sandra did as he suggested and made herself comfortable within the blankets once again. It wasn't impossible for her to regain her sanity, to truly care about herself and the world around her again, but perhaps the reason that she hadn't done it wasn't because she doubted her ability to do so; it was because moving on meant accepting the tragedy of loss, and no matter what happened, no matter what changes she'd make to herself, that wasn't something Sandra was willing to do. No matter how happy she could become, her father and Charon dying at the hands of a war that they hadn't asked for was _not_ okay, and she would never accept it for as long as she lived. If Niner, or Arcade, or Boone, or Raul were to die tomorrow in a Fiend raid, Sandra wouldn't be able to accept that, either. Her will to survive - and to drag all of her loved ones down that path with her - was the very core of her personality, the preconscious of her mind. It had been imprinted on her at a young age, probably by her father, who was a doctor and a wonderfully idealistic humanitarian, eerily similar to Arcade. Her unwillingness to accept tragedy bestowed a great deal of stress on her mind, a psychological burden that would perhaps never be alleviated.

But, it also gave her a solid purpose in life, and that's what she needed.

Fierce compassion, fiery determination, and a few random friends to protect - this was her calling.

Sandra was more sure of that than she ever had been about anything before in her life.


	16. Bradley

"We need to get a car..."

Sandra, Niner, and Arcade were approaching the gate to Westside when Niner spoke.

"Or a few new bikes, since mine got trashed," Niner said. "I'm tired of walking all over this bleedin' desert."

"Alright, I've been meaning to ask you since I met you," Arcade replied. "Where on earth do you get that accent from?"

"Wha' accent?" Niner asked.

"You sound European. British, specifically."

"My dad was born in a vault full of Europeans. He told me so himself."

"Oh, so your accent comes from your family, then..."

"I guess so. I never really noticed it."

"Guys," Sandra interrupted them. "We're here. Stop gossiping and let's go inside."

The three of them wandered through Westside. Sandra asked the guards where she could find Bradley, the person who was supposed to be receiving the letter, and they pointed her to one of the elevated balconies that faced the caverns up north. At the top of the small tower, she was able to see a man standing with his back facing Westside, staring out into the desert and looking somewhat bored.

Sandra meandered up the walkway, approached him from behind, and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to her, and she was able to see his double-layered combat armor, and his shaven black hair was hidden underneath a ball cap and a pair of goggles resting on his forehead.

"Look, I'm on duty. Whatever you need, make it quick," the man said.

"Um... I have a letter for you," Sandra said, reaching into her satchel and handing over the letter.

"What?" he replied. "Are you sure it's for me?"

"You're Bradley, aren't you?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Then yeah, the letter's for you. I was told to deliver it to a guard named Bradley in Westside."

Bradey squinted at the letter, looking noticeably confused.

"I don't know who..." he began, but he was cut off when a deafening explosion occurred just outside of Westside's gate.

Sandra jumped.

"What the fuck?!" Niner screamed.

Westside guards flooded out of the gates, drawing their weapons and preparing for battle.

A hoard of fiends were swarming over the landscape. They appeared to be coming from the cavern on the other side of the empty patch of desert.

Another grenade exploded outside of the gate, making parts of the barrier erupt into gigantic shards of metal and sending one of the Westside guards flying. Just then, a grenade whizzed past Sandra's head. Sandra braced herself for the worst, but Bradley moved with the swiftness of a soldier; he caught the grenade in the air and chucked it back out of the tower. It hit the cement and exploded right at a fiend woman's feet. Both of her shins erupted into a mess of bone and blood.

"Alright!" Sandra cheered. "Fuck yeah!"

At that, Sandra climbed over the tower's wall and leaped over the gate, rolling over the pavement and landing in a perfectly upright position. She whipped out her shotgun and darted towards the battle. Niner ran up the walkway and jumped over the gate as well, following in Sandra's footsteps.

"Now wait just a minute you two!" Arcade hollered, but neither of them heard him over the gunshots and explosions. "Ahhh... dammit!"

Arcade pulled out his LAER and ran after his friends.

Sandra and Niner were unloading into the fiend army, much like the guards of Westside. A ball of plasma struck Niner in the torso, but it only singed his kevlar vest, leaving him virtually unharmed. Sandra was sure to duck behind a rock whenever a fiend would draw too close, popping up only when Niner and the Westsiders would provide her cover.

Arcade and Bradley joined in the firefight just in time for Sandra's magazine to run out. The two of them covered her while she reloaded, and luckily, the fiend force was dwindling. Still, Sandra was seeing blasts of plasma hurtle past her from the other side of the rock. She pulled her one and only plasma grenade from her bag, activated it, and tossed it over the boulder with all her might. A thundering green explosion occurred, shaking the ground and breaking the sound barrier. Moments after, silence fell.

"You got the last of them," Arcade said. "We're safe. They're all dead."

Sandra slowly stood, seeing fiend bodies lying around the desert where a fight was ensuing moments before.

"Wha' the hell was that about?" Niner asked.

"Happens all the time," Bradley said, looking to Sandra. "You. You're a courier, right?"

"Y-yeah," Sandra affirmed.

"Well, after that little fracus, color me impressed," Bradley told her. "You moved like a merc. Glad you were here."

"How often do those attacks happen?" Arcade inquired.

"Just about every day, nowadays. Word has it that some witch doctor has the fiends on a drug fueled holy war against Westside," Bradley informed. "Really, I couldn't make this shit up."

"Drugs?" Niner perked up. "Er... I'ma search their bodies real quick. Just for... uh... supplies."

Niner skimped off and began rummaging through the pockets of the dead fiends.

"Well... now that we've got a little breathing room, I think I'll check this out." Bradley ripped the envelope open and pulled the letter from it, unfolding it and beginning to read it aloud. " _Dear Bradley. My name is Joe Sellers. I'm almost certain that you've never heard of me_ \- no shit - _when I wrote this letter, I was unsure if I'd summon the nerve to send it. I made choices long ago that may have impacted you more than you know. I often question my decisions and how things turned out. I will get to the point; I am your father. I separated from your mother not long after you were born. The reasons for my decision are complicated. It was not for lack of feeling or to shirk responsibility_ \- pff, bull fucking shit - _on the contrary, I became an exile to ensure your safety. Not long after I met your mother, there as a war and I was on the losing side. Mere association with me could be mistaken for complicity. As a result, I cut all ties with your mother. She went to Reno, and I wandered. I have no doubt that you harbor resentment for my actions_ \- fuck you - _if you hate me or only wish to ignore me, I only beg you to accept my parting gift. Consider it my feeble attempt to reckon for your abandonment. I know you have subsisted as a soldier of fortune for a long time. I never wanted that life for you_ \- tch, better than your life cocksucker - _there is a vault in the Mojave that contains enough wealth to let you start anew. You can leave the hazards of the frontier behind you. There is nothing I can offer you to make up for the pain I inflicted on you and your mother, but I still owe you this birthright. It is all that I have left. Make no mistake, this won't be an easy salvage. You must walk a dangerous path to gain access to the vault. However, I believe your profession has given you the necessary skills and fortitude to see this through. Your letter should have been delivered with a key, the first of three that are needed to open the vault. The next key is in the Linus Caverns in the Mesquite Mountains. I understand if you wish to dispose of this note and erase any notion of_ connection _with me. You would be more than justified. Consider this my last will and testament. Your father, Joe Sellers."_

Bradley was silent for several minutes after he finished reading the letter. He simply glared at the paper, his fingers grinding into it as he quietly seethed beneath the rim of his hat.

"Alright, no bullshit," he said angrily, shooting a piercing look at Sandra. "Is this some kind of fucking con? Come clean, or I'll buttstroke your fucking skull."

"Easy," Arcade said before Sandra could let out a barrage of insults. "She's just the courier. She doesn't know anything about your delivery."

"Excuse my skepticism, but what the fuck am I supposed to make of this?" Bradley asked. "Some old coot writes me, tells me I inherited his stash? Even if it's a con, it's shit. He expects me to go digging around in vaults and looking for keys? Fuck that noise. What a load of bullshit."

"Guess you won't be needing this, then," Sandra snarked, pulling the key from her jacket. "I'll go after that stash if you're not interested. Your father wanted it to get uncovered one way or another."

"Let's get one thing straight, kid. I don't _have_ a father," Bradley said flatly. "That fucker had a lot of nerve if he thinks he can buy me off. Blowing your wad and walking off doesn't make you a father. Who the fuck are you, anyway? One of his estranged kids that he _didn't_ leave homeless and starving in Reno?"

"Oh my God, shut _up!"_ Sandra retorted. _"_ Ohhh _, boo hoo, Daddy ran off and left me_ \- as if I don't know what that's like! I didn't walk across the wasteland to deliver your letter just so you could stand here and bitch at me - oh, and if you threaten me one more time, you're gonna taste the end of my fucking gun!"

Sandra and Bradley glared heatedly into each other.

Sandra half expected Bradley to throw a punch, but instead, he laughed.

"Nice," he said. "Good to see someone who's not afraid of an angry merc... or a swarm of fiends. You're not half as fragile as most of the simps I talk to in Westside. That's a nice change. You're a vulgar little shit. I like that."

Sandra didn't know what to say. She let out a relieved laugh.

"Well... I guess I could look into this," Bradley said, examining the letter. "If Sellers is what I think he is - Ex-Enclave - that could be worth my time. Those old bastards still have munitions stashed away all over the place. Tch... the fucking Van Graffs gouge the shit out of everyone on their prices. It'd be fun to undercut them. I'm not against investigating this, and I'd be willing to split the cash if you help out, but as you just saw... Westside has something of a fiend problem. I'm on contract here, and as long as these assholes keep crawling out of that cave, I can't go anywhere."

"You want me to help you find your inheritance stash?" Sandra asked.

"Well, I'm not about to go traveling around this hot shithole on my own," Bradley told her. "You three look like you can handle yourselves. Just one catch - when we find this place, we're splitting the booty fifty-fifty. It's not gonna be a four-way split. Got it?"

"Yeah, that's good," Sandra said.

"But like I said, the fiends need to be taken care of first," Bradley replied. "I can't leave Westside until the fiends are done for."

Sandra's eyes drifted over to the cavern. It wasn't a stable structure; in fact, if the dark cave were to be covered up somehow, the fiends would be trapped inside and left alone to die. Perhaps the entire thing would collapse over them, if she was lucky...

"I have an idea," she said. "Arcade, do you have another plasma grenade? I used mine."

"Sure... can't wait to see where this is going," Arcade said, pulling a greenish grenade from his bag and handing it to her. "Be careful with that thing. They're stronger than your average frag grenade."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I need it," Sandra told him just before marching off towards the fiends' cavern.

Niner and Arcade followed behind her.

When they reached the cavern, Sandra held up her hand. motioning for Niner and Arcade to stop. She carefully climbed up the rocky structure, slowly pulling herself higher and higher until she was hovering at the top of the cave - then, she activated the plasma grenade, shoved it between two rocks, and dove off of the mountainside.

A magnificent green explosion occurred behind her, making hundreds of rocks fly in every direction and propelling her a good twenty yards away from the cavern. Sandra rolled over the ground a number of times before tumbling to a stop, and the cave rumbled and shook, gigantic boulders raining from the mountain and falling down around the cave's opening, just as she had planned. In no time, the cavern had collapsed, and there was no cave visible on the mountainside any longer.

"Holy-"

"Sandra!"

Niner and Arcade gasped; Arcade hit his knees beside Sandra, quickly pulling her to her feet, and the three of them hurriedly backed away from the crumbling mountain.

They watched in awe until the rocks stopped moving. Everything went quiet.

"Jesus," Arcade panted, shooting Sandra a look. "Sometimes I think you're _trying_ to get yourself killed."

Sandra smirked.

"Heh... that was fun."

* * *

After the fiend cave was no more, Sandra, Arcade, Niner, and Bradley set off for the Gun Runners. Everyone restocked their ammunition and stocked up on plenty of extra supplies, and once they were finished, Bradley made a comment that would slightly sidetrack their adventure. "Let's head for Novac," he said. "I mean... if this old gas-bag is who he says he is, then I at least wanna look him in the face. Chalk it up to dumb curiosity. Let's go."

Sandra's eyes lingered on a special, customized Fat Man behind the counter. After a moment of staring, they began their walk back to Novac. By the time they reached the town, it was nearly midnight, and everyone was exhausted. Sandra stopped at Joe Sellers' hotel room, knocked on the door, and waited for an answer. There was no response.

"You sure he's in here?" Bradley asked. "Well, what the hell're you even knocking for? This cock-wad owes me a goddamn explanation. Fuck knocking."

Bradley twisted the knob and kicked the door open. "Alright, who the fuck..."

He stopped.

Sandra stepped in behind him, covering her mouth and hiding her nose from the smell of iron.

Arcade and Niner both froze in surprise.

Joe Sellers was lying motionless on the floor in front of his chair. Many of his chems were gone or knocked over, and the wall harbored a round splatter of thick crimson liquid. He didn't appear to have died from anything natural; the back of his head oozed with clumps of drying blood. It was a bullet wound.

"Jesus... he's dead," Bradley said. "Here I was, ready to spit in his eye, and he goes and..."

"Did he..." Sandra uttered, kneeling and examining the old man. "Did he kill himself?"

"No," Arcade said. "The bullet didn't exit his skull from behind." He ran a hand over Sellers' hair, observing the wound very closely. "Someone shot him in the back of the head, and the bullet came out the other side."

"Bounty hunters?" Niner suggested.

"Nah, most bounty hunters are quick and sloppy," Bradley replied. "That was a precision shot made by a professional."

The four of them were silent. After several minutes of tense thought, Bradley zeroed in on Sandra.

"What the fuck have you gotten me into?" Bradley demanded. "Did he warn you about this? Did he mention any other interested parties? What the fuck is going on?"

"It's not _my_ fault," Sandra shot back defensively. "He didn't mention anything. He just asked me to make a delivery."

"The ol' codger liked to talk, but he never said anything about anyone else lookin' for the treasure," Niner added. "He was jus' going on about how important the delivery was."

Bradley glared into his father's corpse, looking to be deep in thought.

"This isn't worth it," he mumbled. "We need to turn around and walk away now. I just wanted a payoff... not this mess."

"But..." Sandra started, glimpsing down at Joe Sellers sadly. "He really wanted you to have that key. He really wanted you to..."

"I don't care what he wanted. You know what _I_ want?" Bradley said. "I want to walk away from this with my life intact. Fuck this mess."

"Oy, we'll take that key off your hands if you're-" Niner began, but Arcade shot him a severe look, and he went quiet.

Sandra watched Bradley, trying to read his dark expression.

"You ever feel like... you're just coasting through life?" she asked.

Bradley squinted oddly at her.

"I mean... you ever feel like you're just... scraping by? Waiting for your life to start?" Sandra clarified. "Waiting for an opportunity?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm saying, this is your opportunity to really start your life. You'd be throwing away a big opportunity if you just turned away from it now," Sandra said, thinking of New Vegas and her plan to kill Mr. House. "It's risky, and sure, there will be other people out to take your prize... but think of what you could do if you succeeded. It'd be like living a dream."

"Or, it'll be like living in a grave with worms eating my nuts off," Bradley replied snarkily.

"You'll regret it if you don't see this through," Sandra told him. "You'll wonder about it for the rest of your life, and you'll kick yourself in the ass for passing by the opportunity."

Bradley looked down at the corpse again.

"You have a point," he sighed. "I don't want that shit weighing on me..."

"Well, then let's go," Sandra said. "We can ask the guy at the Dino-place to bury Sellers. We don't have any time to waste. Whoever's looking for your father's stash is on our ass, and we need to move faster than them."

"For the record, I think this is a mistake," Bradley responded.

"For the record, I don't give a shit," Sandra told him. "Come on."

The four of them headed for the door. Sandra was behind the others; Bradley was the first to open the door, and just then, someone outside spoke.

"Well, this is an auspicious occasion," the suited stranger said, pressing a silenced 22 into Sandra's stomach.

Sandra and her friends froze; Arcade had his hand over his plasma defender, and Niner and Bradley were readying themselves to draw their knives.

The man wore a sleek black suit and a stylish pre-war hat, and he had short, bright blonde hair which contrasted with his shiny green eyes in a loud, attention-grabbing way. Sandra stood inches away from him, the cold barrel of his gun pressing harder into her abdomen.

"It is?" Sandra replied to the stranger, showing no fear whatsoever. "What, is it my birthday?"

"I thought they sent me to track down some generic messenger... not _the_ courier," the man told her. "I'll be frank."

"Okay, then who am I?" Sandra snarked. "Can I be Ted?"

"You're really annoying, you know that?" the goon said. "I thought the famous Courier Six would be more... I dunno... intimidating. You're just a stupid kid."

"And you're just a stupid fag with a bad perm," Sandra shot back. "Why'd they send you to kill me? What, did they just wanna get rid of you? One less fag to write checks for?"

"Watch it." He nudged the gun deeper into her stomach, his finger grazing the trigger.

"Yeah, Sandra, you really should watch it..." Arcade whispered.

Sandra felt her insides squirm, but she didn't have a hint of fear on her face. She didn't want to die, but she'd be damned if she was going to cower in front of this bastard...

"Courier... Six." The suited man glared into her. "I pictured a guy, to be honest. A guy, maybe a bounty hunter... not some little girl with bodyguards."

"They're not here to keep me out of trouble," Sandra responded, letting a devilish smirk crawl over her face. "They're here to keep me from _starting_ trouble."

"I can vouch for that," Arcade added.

"Mr. Sellers had a contractual obligation to my employer. I suppose he neglected to mention that when he gave you that key," the suited man said. "I'll be frank - I'm here to collect that key. Either you can hand it over, or you can lay down your lives for something that doesn't even belong to you. What's it gonna be?"

Sandra thought on this. Her first instinct was to smack the gun away as fast as possible, hoping that one of her companions would open fire, giving her enough time to draw her shotgun and finish the job... but something kept her from doing so. There was another option, a more humane one. Opening fire would have been Charon's first move, but not hers. Not the old her, anyway.

"Seriously?" Sandra said. "Why are you doing this? Even if you shoot me, one of my friends here will snuff you out before you can blink. Besides... you think these are the only friends I have? You think I can't fight you myself? I've had guns pulled on me before. You don't scare me. If you try to shoot me... you're gonna have a hell of a time getting out of here with your life intact. Do yourself a favor and walk away."

The man went quiet, gritting his teeth and seeming to be thinking very hard about something.

"I fucking knew it," he snarled under his breath. "I knew it... as soon as they told me who I was going after, I knew it was a death sentence..."

"Well..." Sandra gently grasped his gun, slowly pushing it away. "Then walk away. I won't fight you. I won't come after you. Just... walk away."

There was a long, tense silence.

"Fine," the man finally said. "Fuck this. Fuck the syndicate. I'm done with this crap."

At that, the man spun around and jogged away. Niner and Bradley were about to draw their guns, but Sandra motioned for them to hold their fire. They allowed the man to run off, and nobody spoke until he was out of sight.

Sandra let out a long, relieved breath.

"Bloody hell," Niner said. "We shoulda' shot him."

"Yeah, really," Bradley agreed.

"We don't have to shoot everyone who comes along," Sandra told them. "It's better to make friends than enemies, anyway. Enemies are bad for business."

Arcade nodded. He seemed to be the only one who agreed with her.

"That guy was syndicate," Bradley said. "Well'p... we are now in a world of fuck, my friend."

"What's the syndicate?" Sandra asked.

"Organized crime," he answered. "Real big out in New Reno, but they have their hands in the NCR's panties too. Strip families, NCR, hell... they might've even done deals with the Legion once or twice. The Legion don't usually deal with any outsiders... unless they're manipulative as fuck. And that pretty much sums up the syndicate in a nutshell. Syndicate is good at information gathering, selling weapons, extortion... everything the Legion fucks do. Makes sense that they'd get along."

"So... your dad did business with them, then. The syndicate is after your inheritance," Sandra figured. "What do you want to do?"

"Like you said," Bradley replied. "No use waiting for my life to start. This is my chance. We've got nothing to lose now. Let's go."


	17. Hunting the inheritance

"This was the first key of three... and the second one is in Linus Caverns..."

Bradley was murmuring to himself as they walked.

"We're close," Sandra told him. "Whatever's in there... it can't survive a bunch of plasma grenades."

"That's what we were doing holed up in Mick & Ralphs all afternoon?" Niner said. "Damn, how long does it take to dig out some plasma grenades? We coulda' got to the cavern before nightfall if Mick wasn't twiddling his tallywhacker all day."

"He has a huge storage room full of hidden weapons. It's probably hard to keep up with all of them," Sandra replied. "I'm just happy I got my grenades. I love these freakin' things."

"Yeah, well, don't get too plasma-happy this time," Arcade said. "We don't need another cave collapsing, especially not while we're traipsing around inside it."

"Yeah... I'm against getting buried in a cave," Bradly agreed. "No dumb bullshit, alright? We do this like professionals."

Sandra repressed a scoff. She was a lot of things, but she was sure that 'professional' wasn't one of them.

When the sun began to set, the gang found themselves climbing a large hill. They stopped at a bunker entrance, and according to Sandra's Pip-Boy, it was the entrance to Linus caverns. She allowed her friends to climb in first, and when they got inside, she slipped a new syringe of psycho from her bag, injected her arm, and climbed in after them. It was nice to have money to spend for once. A bag full of plasma grenades and a fresh supply of chems? Nothing could make this day better.

When they reached the bottom of the ladder, they all drew their weapons. Sandra switched on her Pip-Boy's light, illuminating the pathway ahead. At first, the cavern appeared to be empty, but Sandra caught a glimpse of a distorted shape in the darkness. It looked like a massive humanoid chameleon.

"Oh shit..."

Bradley was the second one to notice it; immediately, the nightkin rematerialized right in front of them, its giant arms raised and preparing to swing a humongous hammer. Sandra panicked; she lifted her shotgun and unloaded as many shots as she could before her gun emptied, and the nightkin crumbled to the ground.

More nightkin appeared as if from nowhere. Most of them were carrying makeshift hammers, so it wasn't difficult to take them down with the gang's firepower - but one of them was carrying a minigun. When the minigun began to spit bullets in every direction, everyone ducked for cover.

Sandra fumbled behind a boulder, and Arcade almost collided with her when he followed. Niner was running the other direction, and Bradley had positioned himself behind a rock and a dead nightkin, holding up his marksman carbine and opening fire. But, the only source of light in the cavern was Sandra's Pip-Boy, and she wasn't close enough to Bradley to light the way for him; his shots were missing their target. It was too dark for him to aim properly.

"Fuck me running..." Bradley swore.

Bullets crossed paths midair, filling the cave with numerous earsplitting explosions and muzzle flares.

"Well... when professionalism fails," Sandra said, slipping a plasma grenade from her bag, "overkill gets the job done."

"Sandra wait-!"

Arcade tried to stop her, but she lunged the grenade over the boulder anyway. There was a fantastic green explosion that brightened the cave, and the nightkin's legs were ripped from its body; just when the nightkin fell over motionless, the cave began to rumble.

Rocks began to disconnect from the rest of the structure, and soon, it was raining chunks of earth. Bradley and Niner sought shelter in the cave's crevices. Arcade wrapped his arms over Sandra, and the two of them huddled together, praying that nothing would fall on them.

A moment later, the rumbling stopped. Everything went silent.

Sandra found herself breathing into Arcade's neck. He slowly released her, giving her a pensive look.

"You have _got_ to stop using those things," he said. "We could've been crushed."

"Hey... we're alive, aren't we?" Sandra replied, reaching her feet. "Come on."

"It's a wonder _how_ we're alive..." Arcade mumbled.

The four of them crept from their hiding spots and stepped over the rocks and bodies.

"Next time... remind me to bring cateye," Bradley said. "That plasma shit is too risky to play around with in enclosed spaces like this."

"Yeh... it was badass though, wann't it?" Niner laughed.

Eventually, the cave bled into a vault. On the metal platform in front of the vault was a skeleton surrounded by an unlikely gathering of objects; three brahmin steaks, flowers, and a rifle.

"Huh," Bradley said. "Three steaks and a sniper rifle. That's what I want at my funeral."

"The nightkin's way of showing this guy passing respects, I guess," Arcade suspected.

As they explored the vault, Sandra took the lead. Niner jogged forward and stopped at her side, both of them walking a fair distance from Arcade and Bradley.

"Didja see that?" Niner whispered. "You see what doctor man did?"

"What?" Sandra asked. "Arcade? What did he do?"

"Dude wrapped his body all around you, babe. He's got the hots for ya."

"What? No he doesn't."

"C'mon, Six... really? Did you see the way he was touchin' you?"

"Uh, yeah, because he was afraid we were gonna get crushed by rocks."

"Oh..."

Niner pondered on this for a moment.

"Yeah... that makes sense... you're right, never mind..." he said. "He's playin' for the other team anyhow. Never mind."

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"What do you mean, playing for the other team?" Sandra asked curiously.

"C'mon, Six, you know what I mean. He's into musical theater an' shit," Niner told her. "He's gayer than a three dollar bill."

"He told me he was bisexual."

"Pffft. Yeah right. He said he's only ever been with dudes, right?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Then he's gay. End of story."

"Why are we even talking about this?"

"Hey," Bradley called from behind. "Shh. Everyone be quiet. I think I hear something up ahead."

They all stopped and listened intently to their surroundings. The old metal hallway gave a few light creaks, and after a moment of listening, they were all able to hear the faint thumping of footsteps. Heavy, metallic footsteps.

"Sounds like protectrons..." Bradley murmured. "Great. Thanks, pops. Nothing I like more than traipsing into an abandoned vault full of crazed robots..."

"Robots, huh." Arcade pulled what looked like a perfectly cylindrical metal potato from his bag. "I've got just the thing."

"Pulse grenades? Now we're talking," Bradley said with a smirk. "You're the thinking man of the group, aren't you?"

"Prepared for anything. That's me," Arcade replied. "Ad victorium."

When they reached the end of the hall, they all crouched at the doorway, listening closely and patiently waiting for the robots to draw near enough. It was about ten minutes before Arcade determined that the time was right; he threw the pulse grenade into the spacious room containing protectrons and two sentry bots. After a wicked electric explosion, the robots fizzled out and died, and the group marched onward.

At last, they reached an office where Sandra located a keycard on the desk - one identical to the one she'd delivered to Bradley. She inserted it into her Pip-Boy, and seconds later, the coordinates to the next vault popped up on her screen.

Bradley hovered over her arm and studied her Pip-Boy's map.

"Looks like we're heading for BFE... east of Nellis," he said. "Hell, we've made it this far. Let's go."

"We need to rest for the night," Arcade commented. "We'll head out there in the morning."

They retraced their steps out of the vault and through the cave. By the time they reached the outside, it was past midnight, and everyone was starving and exhausted. They found a nearby campsite, abandoned and surrounded by dead radscorpions, and they made themselves comfortable. Niner was the first to loot a sleeping bag from one of the tents and wrap himself up next to the fire.

Bradley thought to snipe a radscorpion from the hills and salvage the meat to make radscorpion steaks over the fire. Sandra helped him scrape the meat from the inside of the exoskeleton. They carried four hunks of meat back to camp. For a while, it seemed like no one was going to talk; everyone just wanted to fill their stomachs and fall asleep. When they took a chunk of debris from a car and placed it over the fire, they placed the steaks on top and waited for them to cook, and Sandra broke the silence.

"I didn't know you could make steaks from radscorpions," she said. "What do they taste like?"

"Like rubbery towels... unless you season 'em right," Bradley told her. "It was a skill I picked up when I was on the road with my..."

He trailed off. Sandra examined him.

"Used to be with the NCR," he said. "The other soldiers and I, we... we had to learn a lot of improvised cooking when we were on duty."

"You were NCR?" Niner asked.

"Yeah."

"How come you're not with the NCR anymore?" Sandra wondered.

Bradley didn't answer.

Arcade, who seemed to think that it was an important question, perked up and observed Bradley rather closely.

"As long as we're traveling with you... we need to know that we're not traveling with someone who was discharged for some ungodly act. No offense," Arcade said.

"Hey, I don't know anything about you three. I don't see why you've gotta dig into my dirty laundry," Bradley replied.

"We'll tell you whatever you want to know about us if you answer the question," Sandra told him.

Bradley let out a long sigh.

"You know... someone once said that the first casualty of war is innocence," he began. "That's absolute bullshit. The first casualty of war is fucking sleep. Setting up camp, always on watch, always on the move... everything we had to do... it meant next to no shuteye for the soldiers. But I needed them alert. My boys were dozing off and losing focus, so I... reconnected with a few old contacts. I managed to scrounge up some jet. I thought it would be a stop-gap solution, just something to get us through the fight. Wrong. Once the fog cleared, the guys were hooked. They were fiending. The brass wanted heads to roll. They were threatening everyone in the platoon. It started with me, so... I jumped on that grenade. I got ten years in the brig. I did five. Guy named Landcaster from my unit did me a solid, testifying on my behalf. So... there I was, dishonorably discharged, no real experience other than fighting. I was a ready made merc."

Everyone listened until he was finished. Bradley went quiet, used a stick to flip the steaks, then looked up from the fire.

"Your turn," he said, switching glances between them.

"Name's Niner," Niner said. "I'm from California. My brother was NCR, like you. I didn't care for 'em. Mike knew 'em though. Idolized 'em. Wanted to be the perfect soldier, just like Dad wanted us to be. When Dad disappeared and Mike died, I drifted east a bit, lived on the streets, joined a gang. They were my family for a good bit. Been drifting all my life... just eventually ended up here."

The others waited for Niner to continue, but he was finished talking.

"Arcade Gannon," Arcade said. "I was born west of here. Used to do work for the NCR too, but I wasn't a soldier. After a while, the Followers and the NCR stopped seeing eye to eye. The NCR didn't care much for keeping the locals fed and healthy, and well... the Followers wanted to help them. So, we ended up in the Mormon Fort without the NCR's backup. Since then, I've been a doctor for the common good. Nothing extravagant."

When Arcade was done, everyone's eyes shifted to Sandra.

"Um..." she started. "I don't usually talk much about where I came from..."

"Come on, we all did it," Bradley said. "You said you'd tell us. Spit it out."

Sandra gulped, her fingers grazing the scar on her wrist. After repressing her past and keeping everything to herself for so long, she'd decided that she wanted to open up more, to accept her past and to tell her friends whatever they needed to know. Now was the time to start, it seemed.

"I was born in a vault in DC," she said. "My dad left me when I was nineteen. I left the vault to find him, and I... I made some friends. Made a name for myself in the Capitol. Eventually, I found my dad. He was working on a project that would purify water by the masses. I helped him for a little bit... until we were intercepted by a group called the Enclave. There was a war for Project Purity... the citizens teamed up with the Brotherhood's Lyon's Pride, and I... I nearly died. My best friend was killed in that war, and so was my dad. So... I left the Capitol behind. I didn't want anything to do with that place anymore. I traveled, stowed away with some traveling caravans... eventually ended up in Denver. I thought Denver was gonna be the last place I ever made it to..."

Sandra tried to go on, but she couldn't. Painful as her memories of the Capitol were, her memories of Denver were even worse. She didn't want to revisit them.

"I almost died in Denver, but.. somehow... I managed to get to the Mojave. A guy at the Mojave Express found me starving outside... gave me a good meal and a place to sleep. Eventually, I started doing work for him. He died two years ago, but I kept my courier job. It was the only source of income I had, and I wasn't about to give that up. Then, I crossed paths with Benny, and he tried to kill me and stole a really valuable package from me... I met you guys on my way to track Benny down... and here I am."

There was a brief silence after Sandra's story.

"Sounds like we've all been screwed over once or twice, huh," Niner said. "We try to make a difference and the world finds a way to screw us over. I mean, I didn't, but Mike did. Look what he got for it. Look what we all got for it. Doctor man tried to feed the hungry, and the NCR leaves his ass out to dry. Soldier boy over here saved some lives with that jet scheme - trust me, brotherman, I know how it goes. Jet can get you out of some real tight spots when you're on the brink of death - and he got thrown in jail for it. And you..." Niner turned to Sandra. "You was tryin' to give water to the whole Capitol, and you ended up losing everyone around you. Tha's why I stopped trying to give a shit a long time ago. Don't make a lick of difference out here."

"I wouldn't say that," Arcade replied. "We've all done some good since we met, and nothing bad has happened yet."

"Yeah, well... give it a bit of time," Niner said bitterly. "It always fucks you over sooner or later."

"That's why we're going after this money," Sandra said. "We can make a difference if we have the means. We could do a lot for Vegas if we had the cash and the control. We're working on getting both. We'd be setting ourselves up for life, too. Everybody wins."

Niner shrugged.

"I hear that," Bradley said. "I think we're all pretty much sick of scraping by and not getting shit for everything we do."

"Damn straight," Sandra smirked.

As the steaks faded a tender brownish color, everyone helped themselves. Soon, the four of them were talking about what they would do with their shares of the money, trading ideas of how to improve Freeside and making plans to party at the Tops Casino as soon as they finished their journey for Bradley's inheritance. Bradley and Niner swapped ideas of how to blow their money at the Tops and get the most for their dime: the best hookers, the finest suites, and the nicest entertainment. Soon, they were telling stories of their most horrifying encounters with cheap prostitutes, and Sandra and Arcade laughed as they listened.

No one fell asleep until about two in the morning.

Niner was the first to drift to sleep, and Arcade was the second.

Sandra and Bradley remained awake, staring into the flames and wishing they could sleep, but both of them were lost in thought now. The two of them were wondering what they were going to do with their soon-to-be fortunes, and they were far too excited to sleep.

"It'd be nice to find some success after all that's happened in this bullshit life of mine," Bradley said. "I'd open a shop for energy weapons. God knows there's gotta be a bunch of them in that vault if it belongs to the Enclave."

Sandra nodded.

"What did you do before the NCR?" she asked.

"What did I do? Nothing, really," Bradley replied. "My mom died when I was five or six, so I developed a talent for pickpocketing. That got me by in Reno until I was nine or so. One day I pickpocketed the wrong guy, one of the Mordenoes, a made man. He caught me trying to steal his pocket watch, damn near beat me to death in the street for it. I didn't make a sound, though. Wouldn't give that cocksucker the satisfaction. When I got older, I was in the drug business. Ran into that guy again. He started talking shit, telling all his buddies about beating the fuck out of me, tried to embarrass me. I ignored it... for a while. When he went to the bathroom, I followed him in there, got him in a choke hold. He started crying, pissing himself... so, I strangled him until he went limp. But you can't off a made man and expect no one to notice. So, I had to leave town. Ended up traveling and starving like a motherfucker... then I came across that recruitment office. The rest you know."

"You ever think about settling down?"

"Nah, it never suited me. Besides, that would mean getting married, and there was only ever one real woman in my life."

"Yeah? Tell me about her."

"Christ, you really wanna hear this shit?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Well..." Bradley took a breath. "Her name was Jess. Freak coincidence, me meeting her... she ran jet behind her husband's back. Her husband was a real control freak. Long story. She and I connected right away... I remember her dark hair, dark skin, and those hips... fuck, I can almost feel them..."

Sandra listened intently.

"Jess was the kind of woman who could put crazy ideas in your head just with a look..." he went on. "I had dumb ideas about killing her husband, marrying her... when I had to leave Reno, I wrote her a letter and asked if she'd come with me. She never wrote me back. I guess she moved on. I probably should've done the same. Jess was the focus of my youth, my passion... maybe I left it all with her..."

"Nah, I don't think you did," Sandra replied. "I think you've just been doing what everyone else does when they're in survival mode."

"Yeah?" Bradley said. "And what's that?"

"You've just been getting by, waiting for your life to start," Sandra told him. "We all end up doing that sooner or later. Some people die before their life really starts... because they wasted all their time waiting for something to happen. But we're _making_ it happen. That's the difference. We bounced back. A lot of people never do."

"Makes sense," Bradley said. "I've done more living in the past twenty-four hours than I have in years... since my last tour with the NCR, that is..."

"Yeah. I've been coasting through life ever since I came to the Mojave," Sandra replied. "Didn't have any friends, any ambitions... but all of that's changed here recently. You show a little initiative, and you'd be surprised how much can happen from that."

"Apparently, seeing as how we're on the hunt for a legendary stash that's supposed to set me up for life," Bradley agreed. "Honestly, that's the last thing I ever expected to happen. I almost ripped up that letter right then and there, and that would've been the end of it. Glad I didn't."

"Yeah, me too."

Sandra curled into her sleeping bag - which she found in a tent, and she had to dust a lot of dirt from it - and she fell into a restful sleep beside the fire. Even though she thought of Charon, Bryan, Mr. Burke, and her father before she drifted off to sleep, she didn't have any nightmares. Her thoughts were more pleasant than usual, more peaceful. Remembering her old friends reminded her to cherish her new ones. The memories didn't seem so painful anymore.

Nobody awoke in the morning. Everyone slept well into the day. After a late lunch-breakfast of crappy pre-war snacks, consisting mostly of cram and sugar bombs, the group set off for Nellis, though Arcade was sure to warn them not to tread too near the place, otherwise they might get bombed off the face of the earth. It was seven pm before they finally reached the final bunker, and when they climbed inside, Bradley was pleased to see an empty metal hallway containing no nightkin, robots, or skeletal remains.

"No bodies, no crazy robots... huh. Maybe Dad was looking out for me after all," he said.

They traveled down the hall and opened the bunker's main entrance. In the lobby, there were barricades set up all over the place, and behind them were abandoned Enclave weapons and decayed corpses of the soldiers who once lived in the bunker.

"Fuck... my life," Bradley grouched. "Thanks, Dad. _Here sonny, take this key to a bunker full of fuck-all-ways-to-die!"_ he said in a comical impersonation of an old man's voice. Niner laughed.

"Well... at least there's no sign of the syndicate," Sandra commented. "We must be ahead of them. None of them know where these places are."

"Let's just hope they aren't tracking us across the desert," Arcade said.

"I hope they are," Niner replied. "I wanna shoot me some suits."

Just then, everyone heard a distant hissing screech. Sandra recognized the sound, and she guessed that Bradley did too, judging by the look on his face.

"Would you settle for shooting zombies instead?" Bradley asked Niner. "Sounds like we've got an infestation on our hands. No wonder these fucks all died in here. They were locked in with a bunch of flesh-eating fuckers."

Calling it an infestation might have been the biggest understatement ever spoken. That's what Sandra thought, anyway. When they reached the bottom floor, the feral ghouls were crawling from every crevice of the bunker. They weren't difficult to kill; Sandra and the others were well armed and equipped to deal with a simple threat like ghouls. But the ghouls flooded to them in packs, and after a while, the group was running low on ammunition. They fired over each others' shoulders, slaughtering ghouls left and right. Just when Sandra was on her last round of 12 gauge bullets, her Geiger counter began to click madly from her wrist. She instructed everyone to take some rad-x before they advanced any further.

The final room was the largest gathering of feral ghouls that Sandra had ever seen. Since she was low on ammo now, she pulled a plasma grenade from her bag and prepared to throw it, but Arcade gripped her arm and stopped her just in time.

"Remember what happened in the cave?" he said. "We're under three floors of metal here. We're deep underground. If this place collapses, we're done for. Don't use explosives in here."

Sandra hesitated. Begrudgingly, she slipped the grenade back into her satchel.

"What are we supposed to do, then?" she asked, glimpsing to the horde of ghouls, who were all huddled around a cesspool of radiation. "We don't have half enough bullets for all of them."

"Look there, Six," Niner said, pointing across the room. "There's a door on the other side. I'll bet that's the room with the last key. We don't have to fight all of 'em. We just need to get the key and get out."

"How are we supposed to get past all those ghouls?" Sandra replied. "Damn... where's Raul when you need him..."

"Leave it to me," Niner told her. "Keep your eye on me. You'll know when to make your move. When the zombies are all distracted, make a run for it."

Before Sandra could object, Niner took off.

"OY!" he bellowed, spreading his arms open and grabbing all the ghouls' attention. "FRESH MEAT RIGHT 'ERE! C'MON YA' UGLY WANKERS!"

The ghouls reached their feet, crackling their necks as they twisted their heads to get a look at their prey. At once, the ghouls sprung into action; they dashed after Niner. Niner ran to a corner, then up the wall, then down the wall again, leading the ghouls back and forth and keeping them all distracted from the others.

Sandra made a break for it; she, Arcade, and Bradley sprinted across the room, leaping over the pool of toxic sludge and slamming their hands into the door to the main office. They dove inside, and Sandra rummaged through the desk until she found the last keycard buried in a pile of papers in the desk's drawer.

"Found it!"

They ran out and darted across the room, stopping at the exit.

"Niner!" Arcade called out, motioning for Niner to follow.

But Niner was trapped in a corner, surrounded by ghouls with nowhere left to run.

Sandra lifted her shotgun and let off a shot, obliterating one of the ghouls' heads into bone and mush.

The other ghouls rounded on her.

"Get ready to run," she said to her friends.

Niner rolled to the side and bolted away from the pack of zombies.

"Well, that worked," Arcade said. "But now they're focusing on us."

"Yeah, that's why I said get ready to run," Sandra replied.

Niner rejoined the group, hiding behind Bradley and catching his breath.

The other ghouls were limping towards them, growling hungrily and hissing nastily at their human targets.

"Guys, I mean now," Sandra said anxiously. "Like, _right_ now. Go! Run! RUN!"

The four of them scrambled through the hallway with the rabid conglomeration of ghouls screeching and drooling close behind them. They flew up the stairs on all fours with the pack of zombies on their tail, leaping over skeletons and flipping over the barricades as they fled. Sandra retrieved one of her plasma grenades from her bag again. If she timed it just right, then maybe...

"Sandra-I-told-you-don't!" Arcade panted between breaths.

"Trust me!" she shouted in response.

First Bradley scurried up the ladder, then Niner, then Arcade. Arcade stopped at the top, reaching his hand into the bunker for Sandra to grab, but Sandra was preoccupied. The ghouls were clawing and climbing over each other only feet away. Sandra pulled the pin, threw the grenade at the floor beside her feet, and jumped onto the ladder. She climbed as quickly as her body would allow, and Arcade clasped his hand around her wrist. He yanked her out just before-

BANG.

A magnificent green explosion rattled the bunker, sending a wave of heat up Sandra's backside and propelling her out of the bunker like a cannon. The lid slammed closed, and Sandra landed awkwardly sprawled halfway over Arcade and partially on top of Bradley. There were a few seconds of silence, and then, they all erupted with laughter.

"Ho-ly-SHIT!" Bradley exclaimed. "I've never seen any crazy shit like... oh, fuck it... come'ere!"

He slapped his hands on both of Sandra's cheeks and planted a very random kiss on her lips. He stood, high-fived Niner, and continued to laugh his ass off. He didn't see Sandra's cheeks turn scarlet.

"Oy, brotherman, what about me?" Niner said. "I was the one who was about to get my ass torn off by zombies. How come she's the only one who gets a kiss?"

"Grow a pussy and a pair of tits, and we'll talk," Bradley replied. "Fuck, I really thought we were about to bite it there. That was a fucking ride. What're you worried about it for, anyway? You wanna kiss a dude that bad?"

"No, I don't _want_ to," Niner replied quickly. "Jus' seems unfair, like... ah... y'know what? Fuck it. Never mind. From now on, every time we barely escape death, we all kiss Sandra to celebrate gettin' out alive. Yeah? Come'ere, Six."

Niner grabbed Sandra by the sleeve and pulled her towards him, pressing his musky, cigarette-smelling lips against hers. Sandra shoved him away.

"You guys are gross," Sandra said, wiping her face and masking her shock with a chuckle.

"We're men, sweetheart," Bradley told her. "There's a fine line."

Once they gathered themselves, Sandra stuck the keycard into her Pip-Boy. The coordinates to the last bunker appeared on her screen.

"Okay, that's... weird," Bradley said. "Looks like the last vault is in Fiend territory. That's where all the loot is."

"We can make it," Sandra replied. "Let's go."

They set off once again. It was nighttime when they reached the outer Vegas ruins, and most of the Fiends were either gone or sleeping, and there didn't appear to be any syndicate goons on their tails either. That was lucky; none of them hadn't resupplied their ammunition yet. They weren't up for a firefight right now.

The group entered a small building, which contained a hallway leading underground. Sandra led everyone into the bunker, and Arcade managed to manipulate the security system, shutting down the AI of all the robot guards. When they finally arrived at the final room - the room which presumably held Bradley's Inheritance - Sandra stopped.

"Stay here," she told Arcade and Niner. "Guard the door, just in case any Fiends followed us in here. Me and Bradley will scope out the room. We'll look for traps and stuff. If everything's safe, we'll come back and tell you, and we can all haul the loot out of here."

Arcade nodded.

Sandra and Bradley stepped into the storage room, leaving Arcade and Niner in the hallway.

Seconds later, the door sealed itself shut, separating Sandra and Bradley from Arcade and Niner. At first, Sandra thought that Arcade had closed the door, but she quickly dismissed that assumption when she heard the doctor banging his fists on the door and hollering her name.

"Sandra? Sandra?! I can't open it back up! The door's locked! Sandra? What's going on? Can you hear me?!"

Sandra gulped.

She and Bradley exchanged grim looks.

"Somebody else sealed that door up," Bradley said gravely. "We're... trapped in this motherfucker."


	18. Zimmer

Sandra and Bradley remained silent for nearly a full minute.

The only sound in the bunker was Arcade bashing his fists into the sealed door, to no avail.

Moments later, they heard a staticky noise jitter out of an intercom. There was an intercom next to the door, and it sounded like someone was using it.

Sandra approached the intercom and listened closely.

"Ah, the intrepid explorers," a smooth, charismatic voice coasted out of the intercom's speaker. "Let me just say, it's been fun tracking your adventures. You even found places that we didn't know about. Truly commendable."

"Who are you?" Sandra asked.

"Name is Zimmer," the voice replied. "I'm a... representative for a certain organization that has a stake in this vault."

"You're syndicate?" Sandra said.

"The syndicate is just a name... some call us the outfit, the order... the family... really, don't read too much into it," Zimmer told her. "Mr. Sellers struck an arrangement with us a while back regarding his stash... you could call it life insurance. Unfortunately, he elected to break his contract, and thus, we've landed in this troublesome situation. I'd love to give you a warning, but we tried that once already, and well... since our dispatched employee seems to have failed in his effort to retrieve that key from you, I think we can assume that you got to him before he could get to you. So... I won't extend a warning a second time. I think we've gone beyond the point of no return by now. Don't you?"

Sandra remained silent. She wanted to ask what he meant by this, but she had a feeling that she already knew.

"No response? That really hurts my feelings," Zimmer said. "You know what hurts even more? The employee that you spared... fancy blonde by the name of Hawkins... guess where we found him? He was trying to board a monorail. He bought a train ticket and he was trying to escape the Mojave. Can't have that of course, had to put him out of commission. But he was a good man, truly, he was. It hurts when the people you trust stab you in the back. Still... I can't say I'm surprised. Friends tend to dwindle with circumstances. But employees? Usually, they stick around longer. You'd be surprised how easy loyalty is to come by when you write the checks and kill anyone who tries to wander off."

"That's not loyalty," Sandra replied darkly. "That's a mafia."

"Same thing, really," Zimmer told her. "You sound so naive. Do you think loyalty is something you can just _have?_ No. Loyalty is ownership. If you don't exercise some control, then the wasteland will eat you alive. It's kill or be killed out here. That's just the way it is, no matter what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night."

"What do you want?" Sandra said impatiently.

"Pretty simple," Zimmer replied. "We want the gold that's stashed away in that vault. You and Mr. Bradley were kind enough to lead us here, so... listen. I respect your commitment, so I'll offer you this. I will let _one_ of you leave. Right now. Who leaves is entirely up to you and Bradley. Oh, and don't consider any trickery. I've got a new friend up here... a Fiend, who happens to be good with technology... and he's got full control of the vault's security systems now. If you try anything suspicious, you and Mr. Bradley can huff some VX. I hear it does wonders for the sinus pressure."

"You want us to... fight?" Sandra asked.

"If you want," Zimmer said nonchalantly. "Talk. Fight. Do whatever it takes to decide which of you deserves to live more."

"You can't make us choose," Sandra stated. "That's fucking barbaric."

"Such is life," Zimmer said. "Kill or be killed. Just as it should be."

Just then, the static on the intercom died, and Zimmer's voice disappeared.

Sandra felt a shudder slither down her spine. Bradley was standing right behind her, and he'd been listening to the entire conversation. Just when she turned around, Sandra saw that Bradley had reloaded his marksman carbine, holding the gun upright and wearing a particularly conflicted expression.

"Fuck..." Bradley uttered. "I don't wanna do this, but... fuck... I'm sorry..."

Sandra wanted to reach for her gun, but she didn't.

They stared endlessly at each other for several minutes. Arcade continued to pound on the door.

"We don't have to play his game," Sandra said calmly. "He's a twisted fuck."

"... that's goddamn right," Bradley replied.

He sighed, glared at his feet, and lowered his gun.

"If I go out... I'm going out on my terms," he murmured gravely. "Just..."

Bradley looked up, meeting Sandra's gaze.

"Just promise me you'll reckon with these fucks," he said.

Sandra's heart began to pound. "What're you..."

"Find the syndicate and fuck them up royally for me, alright?" Bradley said, slipping his pistol from its holster.

"No, wait..." Sandra said. "Don't do it. We can figure something out. We can make a plan. We..."

"It's been fun." Bradley flashed a weak smile, pressing the pistol's barrel into the side of his head. "See you around, courier."

"DON'T!"

BANG.

Sandra snapped her eyes shut. The gun fell from Bradley's hands, his skull spouting blood as his body crumbled to the floor.

After hearing the gunshot, Arcade and Niner began to pound on the door furiously. Sandra didn't move, didn't blink, and didn't speak. She gnawed on her bottom lip, forcing down the urge to cry with all her might. Suddenly, she saw her worst memory play out before her eyes, remembered exactly how it looked when Charon rushed into the purifier, past Sarah Lyons, into the radiation-filled control room... sacrificing himself for her... the way his body ragdolled when the purifier exploded, smashing him into the glass wall and snapping his neck like a twig...

The door opened.

Arcade and Niner rushed inside, both of them shouting shocked questions and gasps after seeing Bradley's body. Sandra could barely hear them. Her eyes were lost in Bradley, bloody, motionless, and silent. When did she start to care about this guy? This random Westside merc whom she'd simply been hired to deliver a package to? She barely knew Bradley... but his death stung nonetheless. Bradley had a life, after all. He was just about to start his life for real, and his inheritance could've made that happen. He had a story, a war story with the NCR, a woman he once loved, and ambitions to start his life anew... years of struggle, pain, and endurance. After everything he'd been through... he'd _earned_ his inheritance. But in the blink of an eye, with the single pull of a trigger, it was all gone in a flash, like he never existed, like everything he endured was all for nothing.

 _"Sandra!"_ Arcade exclaimed for the twentieth time, grasping her shoulders and giving her a shake.

Sandra blinked, only just realizing that Arcade was directly in front of her, staring worriedly into her and waiting for an explanation.

"What happened?!" he asked frantically. "What happened to Bradley?"

"Killed himself..." Sandra mumbled blankly.

"Why?" Niner asked.

"Because the syndicate told us to choose... which one of us could live... which one had to die..." Sandra muttered distantly.

At once, a spark of determination ignited in her like a lightning strike.

 _The syndicate is here. They were upstairs somewhere, using the intercom, hacking into the system..._

Sandra bolted out of the bunker, jumping over Bradley's body and hurtling up the stairs. Arcade and Niner followed her. She heard the metallic crash of the door sealing itself behind them. The gold was out of her reach for good now, but she didn't care. Sandra bombarded into every room in the bunker, finding no trace of the syndicate's goons anywhere. On the top floor, she burst into a room containing a single chair, many computers, and a destroyed terminal. A dead Fiend was lying slacked sideways in the chair.

 _They destroyed the security system and killed the hacker,_ Sandra thought. _Covering their asses. Makes sense. Doesn't mean they can hide from me._

Sandra flipped over every box, clipboard, and whatever else she could find in the control room, hoping to find something - anything - that might lead her to the syndicate's whereabouts. The longer she rummaged through the room, the more frustrated she became. These people were experts at covering their tracks. But that didn't matter. She'd find them, somehow... and she'd enact revenge. Trapping her in a vault and threatening to gas her was enough of a reason to hunt them down and slit their throats, but Bradley... the thought of Bradley made her furious. His death was so avoidable, so pointless. Why did they have to kill him?

 _For the fun of it,_ Sandra knew. _That was the only reason he had to die. So they could cage us up and see how we'd react to their twisted game. It was just a game to them_.

When it became clear that Sandra wasn't going to find anything, she let out an angry yell and kicked over the office chair. The Fiend hacker's body fumbled onto the floor.

Sandra continued pointlessly kicking the computer systems and hollering vulgarities. Arcade knelt beside the Fiend's body, sliding his fingers into the corpse's pockets and pulling out a paperclip, two bottle caps, an empty jet inhaler, and a crumpled up piece of paper. He opened up the paper, trying his best to straighten out the wrinkles. It was a note scribbled in terrible handwriting.

 _"Billy... someone offed Shulgin."_ Arcade began to read the note aloud. "Good lord, these people don't know how to spell. Ehem... _most of the Fiends are drifting back to the ruins around Vault 3. Lucky for us, the outfit keeps supplying plenty of jet for odd jobs. They mainly want us to keep pressure_ _on Westside, but he said not to get carried away. Just holdups and the occasional kidnapping. He also said to let the militia use the worst junkies for target practice._ Wow, that's charming. _As long as the dope is flowing, I'm down for anything. I'm gonna push off tonight, you're welcome to join us. Ever get high and watch Eileen work a prisoner? Crazy shit, man. P.S. - if you ever need more work, talk to Hastings in the Thorn. Dude has juicy contacts_ _with the outfit. He can hook you up. Later."_

Sandra froze. She, Arcade, and Niner exchanged faces.

"What do you want to do?" Arcade asked. "Are we... going after them?"

"Hell yeah, we are." Niner inhaled a fresh hit of jet and tossed the inhaler aside. "They screwed us out of our money and killed off Bradley. Why the fuck wouldn' we go after 'em?"

"We can't take on the syndicate by ourselves," Arcade said. "I'm not saying we should just walk away, but... just the three of us? We can't take them all on. We have no idea how many there are, how much they've influenced the NCR... if we didn't get killed right away, we'd be watching our backs for the rest of our lives. These people are probably integrated into every faction in the Mojave."

"Not all of them," Sandra said, thinking of the Legion. "Besides... we'll have Vegas under our thumb one day, and right now, we can rely on Mr. House's security to look after us."

"Yeah, that works when we're on the strip, but what about everywhere else?" Arcade asked her. "This is a big move, Sandra. We're tangling with forces bigger than the NCR, or the Fiends, or the Powder Gangers. We can't do that on our own."

"You're right," Sandra agreed. "But... who says we're on our own?"

* * *

As the days carried on, Sandra's fierce determination built like a steadily growing wildfire.

Their first stop was the strip. Sandra recruited Victor, Yes Man, and three nameless securitrons to follow them across the wasteland. Next, they resupplied their ammunition at Gun Runners, and afterwards, they made their way back to Novac. The baby deathclaw was cuddled into Sandra's pillow in their hotel room, and Raul and Boone were sitting on the floor playing Texas Hold 'Em. Sandra explained the situation to them, and Boone and Raul agreed to help them track the syndicate down. "Can't let you out of our sight, can we, Boss?" Raul said. "You always get into trouble."

"Do any of you guys have backup?" Sandra asked when they were all standing outside of her hotel room, cradling her baby deathclaw in her arms. "Any friends we can ask for help? Anyone?"

"Not really," Boone replied. "I only had one real friend back in the fighting days, but he and I don't see eye to eye anymore."

"I haven't had any friends in about a hundred years or so," Raul added. "Sorry, Boss."

"I might know a few people..." Arcade mumbled. "Er... no... never mind. Sorry. I've got nothing."

"Boone, do you think anyone in the NCR would help us out if they knew what we were up against?" Sandra inquired. "The syndicate has people in the NCR, but they couldn't have infiltrated the entire military. There has to be someone who'd help us fight the syndicate."

"Well... if the syndicate is influencing judgment when it comes to making decisions and passing laws, then... I'd say the best bet would be to get some rangers on our side," Boone informed. "Rangers operate more freely from the rest of the NCR, and they're the toughest out of all of 'em. I know a guy named Sanders, leads a Battalion named Deathclaw Riders. He passed through town yesterday. Heard he was heading for the Crimson Caravan."

And so, their next destination was set. The group spent the rest of the day trekking north to the Crimson Caravan, and sure enough, Ranger Sanders and his four men were standing at Alice's desk, orchestrating a new caravan routine that would keep them supplies for the next year. Ranger Sanders was an older man, gruff, with thick brown hair and a bushy beard to match, some of the hairs shining a silverish gray in the fluorescent lighting. Sandra waited until he was finished speaking to Alice to talk to him.

"Are you Ranger Sanders?" Sandra asked.

The bearded man looked her up and down, the way a parent would observe a disobedient child.

"Whatcha' want?" Sanders barked.

"Sorry, sir, but... it's kind of a long story," Sandra started. "We have evidence that a criminal organization is influencing politics and social economics in the Mojave. We think they might have integrated into the NCR, too. But... I'm going after their leader. I was wondering if you could help."

"We were thinking of asking someone else, maybe... lower ranking soldiers," Boone added. "But you rangers can dispatch without all the paperwork that a soldier has to go through. Besides... your skills are what we need right now."

"I'd still have to inform the brass," Ranger Sanders replied. "But, uh... this is a big thing you're asking me to take on, here. Why should I? How do I know you ain't lying through your teeth?"

Sandra, Arcade, and Niner took turns explaining the whole story of Bradley's inheritance to the rangers. Sandra showed him the keycards, all of the coordinates on her Pip-Boy, and the crumpled up note that Arcade had found in the Fiend's pocket, referring to the outfit. Ranger Sanders told them that he'd have to present the evidence to a superior in Camp McCarran, and if they deemed it worthy, he and his team could pursue the mysterious Zimmer. So, Sandra and the gang followed the rangers to the camp, and they all waited while Ranger Sanders went into the building to present the evidence to his superiors. The meeting presumably lasted for hours, because it was eleven pm before the ranger returned. Sandra, Arcade, Niner, Boone, and Raul were all sitting idly by in one of the tents, trying not to nod off to sleep.

"Got clearance," Ranger Sanders told them. "We can head out first thing in the morning."

Everyone was relieved to hear this, but Sandra wasn't entirely pleased. She'd wanted to get back on the road before nighttime, but that didn't happen. Every time she tried to sleep since Bradley's death, she'd always wake up from a horrific nightmare. Her dreams were plaguing her just as bad as before, or worse, even. She didn't want to force herself to sleep again before resuming the hunt for Zimmer, but she didn't have a choice now.

They were each given a cot to sleep in, and Sandra tossed and turned all night. The image of Bradley's suicide refused to leave her mind. After three restless hours, Sandra gave up on her promise to Arcade. She'd promised him that she would try to cut back on the chems, but that wasn't working. She stuck a needle of steady into her arm, then laid back down and tried to sleep. Sandra slept for four solid hours before the sun came up. When everyone awoke and began preparing for their journey, Sandra grabbed Niner and snuck away with him. The two of them traded chems and made their own unique combinations. Today was the day that they'd intercept the man named Hastings, who apparently had connections with the syndicate. Hopefully, today would be the day they'd find Zimmer, and Sandra wanted to be ready for it.

When her arms felt as light as a feather and the colors of the world seemed to brighten ten fold, Sandra grinned.

The gang and the rangers marched out of Camp McCarran. They met up with Sandra's securitrons outside, and off they went.

The walk to the Thorn only took an hour.

Sandra and Arcade climbed into the sewers and began asking people where they could find Hastings. One woman pointed down the hall, where Sandra could see a bulky, metal-armor-wearing Mexican standing against the wall and smoking a cigarette. Sandra approached him.

"I understand you're connected," she said.

Hastings blinked at her. "Yeah, maybe. What of it?"

"I need to find Zimmer."

"Zimmer? I don't know anyone named Zimmer."

"Listen... I don't have time for this. You know, if the Fiends find out that the syndicate is just using them, things could get ugly fast. Is that what you want?"

"Hang on, man... that's a serious accusation. I just want the dope and caps to flow freely... not rampaging Fiends."

"Tell me what I need to know, then."

"Alright, look... I don't know Zimmer. Never met him. But I know a guy who could tell you. Guy named Mr. Chase. He's shacked up in Gomorrah. Now... we never talked. I never met you, and you never came here. This conversation never happened. Capiche?"

"Yeah."

Sandra and Arcade rejoined the group outside, and without saying a word, Sandra began to lead them all to the strip. When they arrived to the casino, the securitrons had to wait outside (they couldn't fit through Gomorrah's doors). They took the elevator to the third floor, and when they reached the top, they all marched down the hallway in search of Mr. Chase.

Sandra pushed open every door she came across, usually either finding an empty room or a customer shacked up with hookers. At the room in the far corner, she found a man sitting at a table opposite her, a balding, heavyset man wearing a dark, stylish suit. A syndicate suit.

"Mr. Chase," Sandra said.

"And you must the the courier, or whatever," Mr. Chase replied. "What's your real name? And why'd you even bother coming..."

He trailed off when he spotted the rangers and armed companions entering the doorway behind Sandra.

One of the rangers hit Mr. Chase with a stun gun. Mr. Chase made a few grunts and moans as the electricity succeeded in paralyzing him, and then, two of the rangers went to work, landing hard punches in Mr. Chase's face and preparing to juice him for information. Sandra didn't have any interest in torturing the man. As the rangers had their fun with Mr. Chase, Sandra searched the cabinets and drawers throughout the hotel room. In the top drawer of his dresser, she found a pile of neatly folded dress clothes, half a bottle of wine, and a torn piece of notebook paper, which read; **St. Peters.**

"St. Peters..." Sandra mumbled. "Where's St. Peters?"

"You heard her. Where's St. Peters? Answer the question," one of the rangers demanded, breathing heavily through his gas mask as he glared into Mr. Chase's face. "Answer her."

The ranger grabbed Mr. Chase by the balls and gave a hard, ruthless twist to his nutsack. Niner snickered. Arcade winced.

Mr. Chase let out a wailing scream. He threw a punch at one of the rangers, knocking his helmet off. Ranger Sanders bashed his knuckles into Mr. Chase's face, crackling his nose cartilage between his finger bones.

"North... fucking... gate...!" Mr. Chase sputtered.

"Freeside's north gate," Arcade determined. "Let's go. Before more of the syndicate hear what's going on in here."

The group absconded as quickly as they'd arrived. They left Gomorrah, ventured through Freeside, and exited the north gate. Off in the distance, they were able to see a gathering of suited strangers standing outside of an old building, which was probably once a restaurant or a marketplace. The sign on the top was decorated with two mutilated brahmin heads, and the title of the building was underneath it. St. Peters.

To top off her earlier indulgences, Sandra eased a needle of slasher into her arm. It was time.

The gang and the rangers opened fire at once; some of the suited strangers fell, while others returned fire. Grinning madly, Sandra chucked a plasma grenade at the bulk of the group. Her smile grew into a wicked beam when she watched the goons' bodies rip apart at the base of the great green explosion.

Niner was yelling insults and throwing frag grenades at the goons. Arcade was using his LAER, Raul his revolver, and Boone his sniper rifle. Teamed with the rangers and the securitrons, they eliminated the syndicate goons in minutes... but they weren't finished yet.

"Doing great, Sandra!" Yes Man cheered.

"Keep yer' head down," Victor advised. "We can't fit into that tiny building, and there ain't no tellin' how many more of 'em are in there. Be careful, ya' hear?"

"Thanks," Sandra replied, patting each robot on the arm. "Stay out here and keep guard for us, okay?"

They stopped at the door, reloaded, and stepped inside.

In the building, there were about fifteen syndicate goons sitting at the tables and talking. One of them was seated behind the counter, leaning lazily on the countertop.

"Paulie, you need to cut out the smoke break..." the man behind the counter said. He then stopped, gasped, and gawked at Sandra. "Fuck! Fuck me, it's you!"

"Fuck you, it's me!" Sandra shouted, thrusting down her shotgun's trigger. There was a great muzzle flash, and the man's head exploded.

Chaos ensued.

Shots fired in every direction.

Niner took a bullet to the chest. He stumbled, but he didn't fall. His kevlar vest had protected him, just as the armor underneath the rangers' overcoats did them.

Sandra had no idea how many times she fired, how many people she killed. Her blood felt to be on fire, her heart positively hammering, her body moving on its own, in a rhythmic, almost dance-like way through the battle, as if it was second nature, as if she'd done it millions of times before...

The others did the same. Raul was moving swiftly through the crowd, never crouching or wavering, slinging his revolver left and right. Boone remained at the back of the group, flanking off syndicate goons one by one. The rangers took the front lines, and Arcade went to their side, his LAER searing burning holes in the chests of his enemies, illuminating the room with a bright blue light with every shot.

"We've got this, guys, we've got this!" Sandra yelled proudly. "GO!"

Niner, Raul, and Boone moved closer to the front. The syndicate goons were falling like dominoes.

Just then, more of them appeared at the doorway across the room.

They began shooting. Niner dove behind an overturned table and returned fire. Boone and Raul began shooting as well.

The bullets _clanked_ and _p_ _anged_ against the metal vests worn by the rangers. The rangers were taking the heat of the fire, but they were virtually unaffected by it.

Arcade and Sandra found themselves a little too close to the fire zone, and neither of them were fortunate enough to be wearing any sort of armor. A bullet tore through Sandra's sleeve, grazing her arm. She blinked, realizing that she was much too close to her enemies. So, she tackled Arcade full force, sending them both flying over the counter and landing hard on the floor behind it.

"Whoa... where'd I go just now...?" Arcade stuttered, blinking and straightening out his glasses. He was lying on his back with Sandra hunched over him. Sandra rolled over him, stood on her knees, and readied her shotgun.

But she didn't need to fire again. A moment of silence fell, which meant that the rangers and Sandra's companions had killed all of their opposition.

"Sweep the building," Ranger Sanders ordered. "Upstairs. Search every floor. Go!"

The rangers charged into the hallway and made their way up the stairs. Sandra, however, was more interested in the stairs leading to the basement. She and her companions followed the stairs downward. The basement was oddly quiet, and it consisted of two main rooms. The first room was full of tables and storage cabinets, but the second room was their destination.

In the second room, there was a clean, almost professional looking office, complete with a desk, a beautiful rug, a book shelf, and a cell with barred doors and padlocks. There also seemed to be an entrance to a third mysterious room, the contents of which were unknown.

At the desk, a very calm, cleanly-cut man with a dark, pinstriped suit and black, slicked-back hair was sitting in front of his computer, his eyes hidden behind a pair of shiny dark sunglasses. He glanced up, gazing intensely at Sandra from behind his lenses.

"Easy, courier," the man said, and Sandra recognized his voice at once. "No ambuscades down here. Have a seat if you want. We have a lot to talk about."

Sandra entered the office. When the others tried to follow her, Zimmer held up his hand, motioning for them to stop.

"Not your friends," Zimmer said. "I want to talk to you, and _only_ you. Your friends can wait right outside that doorway. Alright?"

Sandra sighed, giving her friends a hesitant look. Arcade, Niner, Boone, and Raul returned to the storage room, leaving Sandra and Zimmer alone in the office.

Sandra took a seat in front of his desk, giving him a very thorough overlooking. She didn't know what to think of him. To the untrained eye, he looked like any ordinary businessman. Was he really one of the top dogs in a massive crime organization? Was this really the man who had locked her in a vault and tried to force Bradley to attack her?

Zimmer leaned forward, intertwining his fingers and seeming to study Sandra very closely, his eyebrows narrowing pensively above his sunglasses. Sandra guessed that he was probably about as underwhelmed as she was.

"Please, forgive my fascination... I seldom get to meet a legend," Zimmer said. "Though... you hardly look like anything special. No offense. I mean, after everything I'd heard about you... I don't know. Maybe I pictured someone taller."

"Legend?" Sandra asked. "I'm not a legend."

"Really? Because ever since I started trying to familiarize myself with the power players here in the Mojave, I've been seeing your name pop up all over the place. I'm new to the Mojave, you see. Trying to get familiar with this area, its leaders... it's exhausting work, I tell you. And thankless. Let's not forget thankless," Zimmer replied. "The only known person to ever enter the Lucky 38 in over two hundred years? The courier who somehow managed to upgrade every securitron on the strip, giving them some brand spankin' new missile power? And to top it all... you're probably the only person on record who's ever walked directly into Legion territory and walked out in one piece, no slave collars or anything. Truly impressive. But that's not the amazing part..."

Zimmer leaned closer, and Sandra figured that he was probably eyeing her rather closely behind those glasses.

"The amazing part is... Caesar himself is rumored to have died that day. The very same day that you visited him right in the heart of his camp," he uttered. "Now, tell me... what kind of freakish coincidence is that?"

Sandra gulped. She hadn't realized how deeply involved she'd gotten in the world around her. Suddenly, she remembered everything that Joe Sellers had said to her the day she got tasked with delivering the inheritance letter to Bradley. _Your story... the choices you've made... the people you've killed... you can't control that story anymore. You're becoming the stuff of legend, whether you like it or not._

When did she become so heavily invested in the conflicting powers of New Vegas?

"Caesar deserved to die," Sandra said, forcing her thoughts away. "And so do you."

"I deserve to die?" Zimmer repeated, sounding taken back. "For what? Surviving? Giving you a chance to escape with your life? Trust me, courier. I don't often extend mercy to people who cross me. I think I was pretty admirable if I do say so myself."

Sandra felt a knot form in her stomach. _He has a lot of fucking nerve..._

"Bradley died for no reason," she said. "You're the reason he's dead. What was the point of that? What was the point of killing him?"

"If I remember right, I didn't lift a finger to Mr. Bradley. He killed himself," Zimmer replied. "You could've just as easily done it for him."

"Neither of us needed to die," Sandra fired back. "You had the upper hand. You had us outnumbered. You could've taken the gold without killing either one of us and been on your merry way. But that wasn't enough. No, you just _had_ to turn it into a fucking game, didn't you?! Like making two caged animals fight to the death! And it was pointless!"

"Mr. Bradley was a soldier," Zimmer responded in a voice too calm. "And you... you're a messenger. He died in battle, just like a soldier should. You lived to carry a message through the wasteland. Don't you see the beauty of it? Don't you understand it? People are tools. Bradley was the kind of person who lives for the sole purpose of laying down his life for some fanciful greater cause. But you... you're the kind of person who needs to live. You need to endure tragedy, because you... you take it all to heart. You absorb it for everything that it is, and that makes you the perfect courier. You carry a message in your words, in your actions, in your eyes..."

"What fucking message?!" Sandra snarled.

"A message of what's to come for anyone who tries too hard," Zimmer told her. "You're a perfect example of what anyone with a moral compass will become when they try to survive in this world. You're broken... warped beyond repair. You were the perfect person to spare, because you carry a message in your eyes... and I helped to damage you in that way. The syndicate ought not be crossed by anyone, or else... they might end up as broken as you are. Now, when you're in my position, and you don't want anyone to cross your organization again... that's a pretty helpful message to send to the rest of the world, don't you think?"

"Joke's on you," Sandra said. "I was screwed up in the head long before I even knew about the syndicate. I'm not the one who uses people like tools. I'm not the one who plays with people's lives and wraps them around my fingers, you manipulative fuck. That's all you."

Zimmer raised his brows at her. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, it is. You control a big bad syndicate? Big fucking deal. You have a bunch of people kissing your ass because they're scared of you. That's all it is."

"Fear brings loyalty," Zimmer told her. "Haven't we talked about this?"

"You're wrong," Sandra growled, shaking her head. "You're completely wrong."

"Am I, now?" Zimmer muttered. "Who are all those people you brought here with you?"

Sandra went quiet.

"Tell me, who are they?" Zimmer went on. "Misfits, robots, and NCR soldiers? You've put together some kind of silly courier army, haven't you? Where did you find that gaggle of weirdoes? Those friends of yours... what do you think keeps them sticking to you like glue? Fear. Fear brings loyalty. You have more than they do. You can make sure they stay fed, sheltered, and protected... and even if they _do_ care about you, do you know what that means? It means that they're staying by your side out of fear. See, the difference between your friends and my friends is this; my friends are afraid of losing my battles. Your friends are afraid of losing you. Even when it's love, it's selfish. If they stick with you to survive, it's because they're _afraid_ to leave your side, lest they lose their security, their protection, their meals, their numbers. If they stay with you because they care about you - and that's a rarity - it's because they're _afraid_ to be stuck on their own again. It all comes down to fear. That's just human nature. You think you're better than me, but you're mistaken. You're the _same_ as me. You, courier... you're taking ordinary people and fashioning them into weapons. That's how you've managed to survive for so long, as young and as reckless as you are. That's the only reason you've become a legend. You're the face of your friends' accomplishments."

"So?" Sandra shrugged. "You're the same way. You're the face of your organization's accomplishments."

"Exactly my point. We're not so different, you and I," Zimmer agreed. "The one key difference between the two of us is this... I'm not burdened by a heavy sense of right and wrong. I'm not lying to myself, telling myself it's all for some greater good or what have you. I'm just surviving... like everyone always has. I don't care about all the people who die under my command. But what about you? You simply can't _stand_ to think about all the people you've lost, can you? It's written all over your face. You fracture more and more every time you cause a friend to die. How many, courier? How many have died because of you?"

 _Charon. Dad. Bradley. Countless raiders. Countless Enclave soldiers. Countless Denver settlers. Countless..._

"Countless," Sandra said. "I lost count a long time ago."

"And that's the difference," Zimmer said flatly. "Because I never kept count to begin with. I simply don't care - but you care _far_ too much. And what good does it bring? It weighs you down with anxiety, fear, and doubt. Anxious to see who dies next. Fearful of what the future might bring. Doubtful of your ability to stop the tragedies from happening all over again. You think you're some legend because of your fabricated sense of morality... but in reality, legends are just people. They don't die in some grand final showdown like in the old western films. They don't stop world hunger and put an end to all the tragedies in the world. They die, and the world moves on without them. They grow old, get ill, die in accidents... just like any ordinary person."

Sandra sighed and outstretched her arms behind her head. "Are you gonna wrap this up soon, or what? I'm getting hungry."

Zimmer glared at her.

"Fine," he said. "I assume you're here for something more than shortsighted revenge? If you don't care about the gold, that's fine... but if you do, then listen closely. Most people who have the kind of money that I have... they blow it on booze, pussy, drugs... whatever makes them happy. Me? I buy implants. Not comfortable going in, but _so_ good once they're settled. I have one implant that's designed for a specific purpose. It regulates cardiovascular activity. Basically... if you kill me - if my heart stops - my implant will trigger enough c4 to bury every lick of gold in my safe room. Not to mention, the building and the ground above will probably come crashing down over your head too, but that's beside the point."

"I don't really know why I came here, to be honest," Sandra replied. "I'm pissed off about Bradley... about you playing with my life... and I wouldn't mind getting my hands on the gold, too. But if I have to choose between the gold and seeing you bleed? Ha... say your prayers. I want you dead more than I want any amount of money in the world."

Sandra stood and raised her shotgun.

Zimmer held up his hand. "Hold on, courier. You heard the part about the roof coming down over your head, right? If you get crushed to death, your friends will too. Is that what you want?"

"My friends are standing outside of that open doorway. They can hear everything we're saying," Sandra told him. "They'll know to run like hell if I blow your head off. They'll get out alive."

"You want to see me bleed? That's fine. But let me finish my proposal," Zimmer said. "I'll give you a chance to make me bleed."

"I have a chance right now."

"Okay, let me rephrase that. I'll give you a chance to make me bleed _without_ blowing yourself up in the process. How's that?"

Sandra stared at him.

"I will agree to turn off my implant's signal... _if_ you agree to fight me on my terms," Zimmer said. "With a katana. One-on-one. A fair fight between two legends."

"No..." Arcade whispered, pressing his ear harder into the wall. Niner was hunched next to him. All of them were eavesdropping.

"No what?" Niner muttered in response.

"She can't fight him with a sword..." Arcade said softly. "When was the last time you saw her fight without a gun? She can't do it. It's not her way of fighting."

Sandra swallowed a heavy breath. Melee and unarmed combat weren't her forte, not at all. But if Zimmer was telling the truth about his implants, then she'd be at the mercy of an explosion if she decided to shoot him now. Either way, the odds weren't in her favor... but if she fought with Zimmer on his terms, then at the very least, she'd only be endangering herself. Triggering that c4 might result in everyone else's death. The sword fight was the less risky option.

"Okay," Sandra agreed. "Let's do it."

Zimmer smirked.

Arcade planted his face into his palm.

"Throw down your gun first," Zimmer said.

Sandra tossed her gun towards the open doorway. It landed a few feet away from Arcade and Niner.

Zimmer grabbed a large remote device from his desk drawer, flipped a switch, and placed it on his desk. He stood, took two katanas from the shelf behind him, and tossed one of them to Sandra. She barely caught it.

Zimmer took a stance that looked far too professional, like a suited samurai who had seen numerous battles in the past.

Sandra tried to fix a stance as well, but she ended up holding the sword upright and over her shoulder like a baseball bat.

Arcade poked his head through the doorway, watching anxiously. He was joined by Niner, Raul, and Boone. They were all curious to see how this would play out.

Zimmer was taking a lot of swift side steps, and soon, he was within swinging range. He sliced at her once, and Sandra narrowly dodged it. She slashed her sword left and right, but it didn't make contact. Zimmer moved like a ghost, disappearing from the corner of her eye and reappearing somewhere else. Suddenly, Sandra let out a scream; Zimmer's blade ran up the side of her arm, ripping her sleeve cleanly in half and slicing her skin open.

Sandra lunged at him with a chopping motion. Her sword sank into Zimmer's shoulder, but only for a split second. He leaped backwards several steps, moved many lefts and rights, and advanced on her once again. Sandra didn't know what to expect from him next - so, she jutted the blade forward in a hard stab. It missed.

"Oh God..." Arcade gasped.

Sandra didn't notice it, but her arm was pouring blood all over the rug beneath her feet. Arcade went pale.

Zimmer flew at her, his arms raised, his sword held high.

Sandra's heart could have stopped. She knew what was coming now; he was aiming for her head. This was it. This was the end. He was going to chop her head off. She was about to die in a dingy basement while sword fighting with a lowlife crimelord.

 _BANG._

Sandra jumped.

Zimmer froze midswing, his mouth dropping open, his grip loosening. The sword slipped from his hands and clattered onto the floor.

A thick saturation of blood began to stain the middle of his suit.

Arcade marched forward holding Charon's shotgun at the ready. He was prepared to shoot a second time, but Sandra gestured for him to hold his fire.

Zimmer fell to his knees, groaning and grinding his teeth as he clutched the gaping hole in his stomach.

"You..." he uttered hoarsely. "You... ch... cheated..."

Sandra traded glimpses with Arcade. She took the combat shotgun from him, shrugged, and pressed the barrel into Zimmer's forehead.

"Kill or be killed," she said wickedly. "Just as it should be."

 _BANG._


	19. Vulpes' Legion

On the day succeeding Zimmer's death, the Legion was faced with a new challenge.

Arcade was quick to bandage Sandra's injury on the night the syndicate lost to the Courier Army. The Deathclaw Riders took over the building, and Sandra and her gang slipped away before the NCR would have any idea that a valuable stash was once hidden in the basement of St. Peters. Sandra, Arcade, Niner, Raul, and Boone all carried the collection of gold bars in their backpacks, locking them up safe and sound in the safe at the Lucky 38. Despite her newfound wealth, Sandra didn't feel victorious at all. It was a feeling too familiar to her, a feeling she despised. It was the feeling of winning a war after losing too much to its battle. After all, Sandra and Charon had won Project Purity from the Enclave - but Charon died in that battle, which made the victory seem totally null and void. Now, she felt the same way she did four years ago. She won the loot and defeated Zimmer, but at the cost of Bradley's life, and now, the syndicate - where ever they were - were going to be out for blood for the rest of Sandra's life. It didn't seem worth it.

The next day, Sandra distanced herself from all of her friends. The whole battle with the syndicate had gotten her down, and Zimmer's lingering voice made it worse. _You, courier... you're taking ordinary people and fashioning them into weapons. That's the only reason you've survived so long, as young and as reckless as you are. You're the face of your friends' accomplishments._ And it was true, to beat it all. Sandra wouldn't have survived that sword fight if Arcade hadn't intervened. She wouldn't have survived the war for Project Purity if not for all of her friends back in the Capitol, if not for Charon... and she wouldn't have gotten out of that bunker alive if it wasn't for Bradley. The first time she had dismissed her companions and ordered them to relax on the strip, it was simply because she wanted them to rest. This time, however... she wasn't sure. In fact, she didn't know if she was ever going to go back to them. They'd probably be a lot safer if they stayed away from her, she figured. As Niner and Boone partied on the strip, as Raul napped in the suite, and as Arcade went to work resuming his post with the Followers, Sandra wandered away from Vegas, with no one by her side except for her baby deathclaw. _I still have to name this little guy,_ she thought, looking down at the tiny creature as she walked. _He might be the only friend I get to keep in this wasteland. He definitely needs a name..._

Around noon, when Sandra was drifting away from Vegas, Vulpes Inculta sat quietly in Caesar's old throne many miles away, resting his cheek on his knuckles, his cerulean eyes shining a thoughtful blue. He looked to be far off in thought. Behind him, in the room containing a table and Caesar's old Auto-Doc, he was faintly able to hear a conversation between Lucius and one of his Practitioners.

"Where did you hear that?" the Practitioner asked.

"At Lord Caesar's funeral," Lucius replied. "When we buried him, after the ceremony... I heard it from one of our brothers from the east."

"Do you think it's true?"

"I'm not one to say... but it does make sense."

"You think it does?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't the legate be angry?"

"Well... according to Lord Vulpes, Caesar deemed Vulpes as his successor."

"Yes, but Legate Lanius is still furious, so I've heard. According to the Legate, _he_ was the one who was meant to take the throne in the event of Lord Caesar's death. Not Lord Vulpes."

"But... Lord Vulpes is doing a fine job. Amazing, really. He even rivals Caesar himself."

"That isn't the point. Legate Lanius feels like he's been cheated out of the throne. You've no idea the tensions this could bring to our Legion, especially after the others finally cross the dam. In fact, I think Lord Vulpes-"

"I can hear you, you know," Vulpes interrupted.

They both fell silent for a moment.

"I... meant you no disrespect, My Lord," Lucius said. "I was merely discussing the... social politics... of the matter. We cannot allow our Legion's morale to waver. Anything that might cause tension among our ranks must be dealt with."

"Don't worry," Vulpes replied, still staring forward and not moving. "Don't labor under the delusion that I actually care what you think of me. I don't. However... if I catch a whiff of disloyalty... that's another story."

Lucius didn't reply.

Everything was silent for a few minutes. Then, a Legion scout entered the tent, stopping and kneeling in front of the throne.

"My Lord," the scout said. "The men are complaining that the labor force has dwindled too much to keep the crops taken care of. They would like permission to send out another party... to gather more slaves."

"No," Vulpes sighed, massaging his temples. "For the twentieth time... if they want the crops to grow, then they'd better start watering them themselves. We don't have the Legionaries to spare for such a trivial matter. Tell them this from me - the next time someone sends me a message about gathering slaves for farm work, I'll lash them to a cross myself. Do I make myself clear?"

The scout nodded. "Y-yes, sir, but the thing is... we don't have the Legionaries to spare for farm work, either."

Vulpes blinked. "Explain."

"Well..." the scout stared down at the dirt, not daring to meet Vulpes' glare. "The slaver party, the... the one occupying Cottonwood Cove... they're gone, sir."

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"I mean, they... they still haven't returned. They were supposed to return over a week ago. We suspected the Garrison Gang was involved, but..."

"And the other men occupying the Cove?"

"Three of them have gone missing too, sir. Those three were a scouting party. We sent them to find the others, but they vanished without a trace just like the slaver party."

"And you believe a gang of profligates bested them?"

"Not just profligates, sir... and they're bigger than a simple gang. They're an organization in the market of human trafficking. They rival the Great Khans in their brutal methods, My Lord. They are some of the few who would stand as a notable threat to our Legion."

Vulpes let out an irritated breath. "Tell me... what intel have you retrieved on this Garrison Gang?"

"They're big-time slavers. We haven't managed to track them all the way back to their hometown... in fact, we only managed to track them once. They travel in large groups. But they spent two days in a town up north, a little farther north than Nellis Airforce Base. The town is called Kingsport. It's a rather small place, filled with reprobates, lowlives, chem dealers, criminals... similar to Nipton, if you remember."

"Of course I remember..."

"Right, yes... anyway, My Lord... if you want to track down the Garrison Gang, then the first place we would need to check is this Kingsport town."

"Indeed. Yes..." Vulpes stood from the throne and cracked his knuckles. "I'll leave you in charge, Lucius. Scout - rally my men. I believe it's finally time for your Lord and master to leave the nest again."

* * *

 _You fashion people into weapons._

Sandra sat against a street light on the side of the road. She wasn't sure how far she walked, but she was alone in the middle of the desert now, the lights of Vegas illuminating the sunset far off behind her. Right now, Niner and Boone were gambling their chips away, Raul was getting some well-earned rest, and Arcade was helping Freeside like he always did. None of them were fighting for their lives. None of them were getting mortally wounded. None of them were dying in an exploding water purifier or committing suicide inside of a vault...

 _You fashion ordinary people into weapons... and that's the only reason you're a legend. You're the face of your friends' accomplishments._

"Shut up..." Sandra said aloud.

The baby deathclaw squeaked, crawling into her lap and snuggling into her stomach.

Even after killing Zimmer, blowing his skull into smithereens with Charon's gun, she still couldn't get his lecture out of her head. It wasn't his attitude that had gotten under her skin, really. It was the truth of the matter. Back in the Capitol, she'd hired Charon simply as a traveling companion, as a bodyguard. Eventually, the two of them became friends, and before she knew it, he was fighting her battles for her. In Grayditch, she found a young boy named Bryan Wilks and rescued him from a horde of fire-breathing ants. Sandra and Charon taught him how to fight, and he became the bravest kid Sandra ever knew. When she met Mr. Burke, it was under less-than-friendly circumstances; she'd stopped him from blowing up the town of Megaton. Later down the road, she met him again at Tenpenny Tower, and once more in the wasteland. Sandra and Charon saved him from a savage deathclaw attack, and in an unlikely turn of events, Mr. Burke became a part of their traveling band of misfits. After Sandra trekked off to fight for Project Purity, Charon, Bryan, and Mr. Burke followed her to the showdown. Mr. Burke and Bryan showed up just in time to pull her out of a rapid series of Enclave laser fire, and Charon... Charon made the ultimate sacrifice. Sandra wouldn't have won the battle for Project Purity without them, without the people she had fashioned into weapons of war. They fought _for_ her. They fought _because_ of her.

And Charon _died_ because of her.

Her father had trapped himself in the purifier after making its systems go critical. He purposely filled that chamber with radiation, killing both himself and the Enclave elites that he had trapped inside with him. It was her father's final act of selflessness, sacrificing himself in the water purifier so that Sandra could get out alive. He died for her, just like Charon. Just like Bradley.

Did she really think that escaping to the Mojave would get her away from all the people she'd lost? All the damage she'd caused? Did she really think that she could make new friends, cling to them, and keep them forever? No, that couldn't happen. Eventually, they would all end up like Charon, like her father, like Bradley. It was a harsh world, and nobody ever survived the hostilities of the wasteland for long.

 _I'll just lose them all eventually,_ Sandra thought. _It's better if I just... keep my distance._

 _"I thought I was the cynical one."_

The ghoulish voice was like a choir of angels to Sandra's ears, though she was the only person in the world who could hear it.

Sandra peered up, and if anyone were to see her now, she would've looked like she was merely staring at the sky. But Sandra could've sworn that a tall, red-skinned, leather-armored ghoul was standing over her, glaring at her with familiar, milky blue eyes, crossing his arms, and grumbling under his breath like he always used to.

 _"Haven't taken a hit today, have ya, Mistress?"_ Charon asked. _"Not drinking, either. That ain't like you."_

"Arcade wants me to take it easy on the chems and the booze," Sandra explained.

 _"And you care what he thinks? Since when?"_ Charon crouched and sat beside her. _"I've told you to stop doing reckless shit a million times, and you never listened do me."_

"I should have," Sandra whimpered, turning her head and meeting his gaze. Even though there was nobody next to her, she was certain that she felt Charon's warm, flaky arm brushing against hers. It felt the same way she remembered. Dry, bumpy, and warm...

 _"Should have what?"_ Charon said.

"I should've listened to you..." Sandra replied. "I should've given up on the GECK... and I never should've gone to that fucking purifier... you'd still be alive, and... I'd still be there... with you... at home..."

 _"Goddamn... I think I rubbed off on you,"_ Charon sighed. _"You're constantly focusing on the negative. Just think... how many people in the Capitol are alive now because of that war? How many people have access to clean water now because of what we did? I think it was worth it."_

"No, it wasn't..." Sandra said, her voice cracking, her eyes becoming watery. "Nothing was worth losing you..."

Charon watched her, a solemn expression on his nonexistent face. He wrapped his arm around her and allowed her to lay on him, holding her close.

 _"Hey,"_ he said, his voice a softer rasp than usual. _"I died with at least one person who gave a shit about me. Nothing could've made me happier."_

Sandra tried to lean on him. She wanted to return the hug and cry into his chest, but instead, she fell onto the pavement, lying on her side and sobbing into the concrete. Charon wasn't there. No one was there.

The baby deathclaw crawled up to her face and licked her cheek, trying to comfort her. Sandra grabbed the creature and smothered it in a hug, crying madly and coughing as the dry desert air scraped the back of her throat. She didn't know how long she laid on the side of the road, crying and holding the tiny deathclaw. After a while, she fretted herself into an unwitting sleep.

For a couple of hours, she slept soundly on the curb, undisturbed.

She didn't hear the convoy of travelers who were making their way down the street. It was a group of roughly ten, the leaders armed, and at the back of the group, there were two brahmin pulling a carriage of prisoners. The prisoners were all sitting closely together on the carriage, their hands tied behind their backs and their necks fitted with electric slave collars.

One of the leaders patted another on the arm, pointing to Sandra. They nodded to each other, then began to tip-toe towards her. One of them gently wrapped a slave collar around Sandra's neck - and then, the baby deathclaw leaped into action. The creature sank its teeth into the slaver's hand, making him yowl in pain.

The scream made Sandra sit bolt upright, but it was too late. The collar had already been fixed tightly around her neck.

One of the slavers delivered a harsh kick to the baby deathclaw, sending it flying.

Just when Sandra was about to reach for her gun, she felt a searing, horrific pain explode from around her neck. One of the slavers activated the collar, giving her a terrible shock. Before she knew it, they were swarming over her, punching and kicking her until she fell to the ground again. Someone hit her in the head with a hard, blunt object. Her vision blurred, and everything went dark.

* * *

"Forward march."

As Vulpes' Legion continued on, the sun began to rise on the horizon. He squinted at it, and further down the hill, at long last, a town had come into view. He and his men had been traveling for nearly a full twenty-four hours, and he'd only allowed his followers four hours of sleep. After being trapped in the Fort for so long, anchored by his new leadership obligations, he was quite anxious to be on the road again. He wanted to find the Garrison Gang, and he wanted to assert the Legion's dominance over them. The Garrison Gang were responsible for many Legion disappearances, after all. It wasn't just about eliminating a threat; it was vengeance.

The Legion marched into Kingsport. The town's people were just beginning their daily activities, some of them marching off to their guard duty, others sitting outside at their shops or tending to some work outside of their houses. Many of them traded shocked gasps and whispers when they caught sight of the Legion.

Vulpes stopped in the center of the road, trading eyes with all of the profligates before him. His coyote headdress was shielding his eyes from the rising sun, but he wasn't wearing his goggles; everyone was able to see the intensity of his fiery blue glare.

"I will not mince words with you people," he stated loudly enough for all the nearby towners to hear. "I'm well aware that the Garrison Gang sought quarter here at some point or another. Now... tell me where I can find them, and maybe, just maybe... we will walk away without bestowing the Legion's justice upon your ever-deserving souls."

There was a small silence. The towners swapped glances.

"We ain't snitches here, y'know," said a skinny, balding man who was sitting at a table outside of his house, sharpening a large butcher's knife on a stone. "Ain't nobody gonna tell you anything... not unless yer willin' to pay top dollar for that information."

Vulpes said nothing. He marched up to the man's table, glaring down at him and waiting for him to speak again. The bald man didn't look up from his task. He continued to sharpen his knife as if Vulpes wasn't there.

"Tell ya' what," the bald man said, coasting his knife up and down the stone. "You... y'all are Legion, right? Y'all ain't too different from the Garrisons. Slave drivers who love pussy. Am I right?"

Vulpes continued to stare at him silently.

"Well, I got a wife," the man continued, and finally, he met Vulpes' eyes. "She ain't nothing special. I'll give her to ya' free of charge if you leave us alone."

"You're trying to sell your wife to me as a bribe..." Vulpes murmured. "And I thought your kind could sink no lower."

"Hey, my wife does my dishes... but it ain't like I got a slave collar 'round her neck," the man replied. "Y'all are the slave drivers, not me. You want her or not?"

Vulpes paused. Oddly, he was reminded of the day his tribe fell to the Legion. It happened when he was a child. He remembered leaning out of his tent, overhearing his parents talking to Caesar and Joshua, pleading with them. _Take our son,_ his mother had said all those years ago. _He's strong... more aggressive than the rest of our children. Please, just... take him. He'd do well to serve your Legion. Just... leave the rest of us alone. We wouldn't be of any use to you._

"Is slavery still going on in the Legion, or what?" the bald man asked. "Y'all like women? Men? What?"

Vulpes' teeth clenched together. The day the Legion invaded his tribe, he didn't run away. He didn't try to save his parents, and he didn't resist the Legion. No... he was more than happy to help the Legion with their invasion. He wanted to slaughter his own tribe, to exterminate all of his backstabbing family members who had tried to sell him off as a bribe. Strange, how that same feeling seemed to be sparking up inside of him now, after all this time...

When Vulpes didn't answer him, the bald man went back to sharpening his knife.

Vulpes grabbed the man by the wrist. The man squinted oddly at him.

Then, Vulpes slipped the knife from his grasp, hoisted him up by the collar, and swiftly planted the blade directly into him. It struck between his collarbone and his chest, and the man was so thin, so skinny, the knife actually shot out of the back of his body, pinning him to the wooden exterior of his house.

The bald man screamed and shrieked in agony, blood running down the front of his filthy tank top. He stood crookedly on his toes, the knife holding him in place on the wall, hanging him like a morbid decoration. His cries echoed throughout the town of Kingsport. Vulpes laughed.

Most of the towners gasped and scrambled away. Some of them drew their guns, but no one fired.

The Legionaries were all flashing their melee weapons and submachine guns. All of them were ready for a battle, but no one in the town was willing to make the first move. Vulpes was reminded of Nipton as he turned his head, observing the cowardly reprobates as they stood fearfully before the Legion, taking no action, paralyzed in fear.

"It's always the same... with your type," Vulpes sneered, slowly removing the ripper from his side and holding up it for the crying bald man to see. "Profligates... always looking for the easy way out, always looking for a way around your problems. A way to pay them off. A way to bribe your way out of trouble. But none of you know what to do when you come face to face with someone more cunning than you are. Someone who doesn't care for bribes... for money... for partaking in all your moral diseases. You don't know what to do when you come face to face with someone who's immune to your dissolution. You don't know what to do..."

He powered on his ripper and slashed the bald man's torso. A streak of blood shot into the air, staining Vulpes' fingers. The bald man howled in pain.

"When you meet..."

He swung the ripper again, dragging it down the bald man's front and tearing his skin open like ripping through wet tissue paper.

"Someone..."

Vulpes bashed the ripper into the wooden wall, dragged it to the side, and the rapid blades tore the bald man's head entirely off his body.

 _"... like me!"_

The bald man's head hit the ground at the frumentarius' feet. Vulpes kicked it away.

The people of Kingsport were terrified. Even though some of them had their guns drawn, Vulpes didn't feel threatened when he faced them, his arm blotched with blood, his ripper still buzzing hungrily by his side.

"Now that I have your attention... someone better tell me," he said, letting out a calming breath and wiping a spot of blood from his face. "Where can I find the Garrison Gang?"

"R-Rubble Town!" one of the men yelled. "Rubble Town! It's directly north of here! It's less than a day's walk! It... it's just a big bunch of rubble. It looks abandoned from the outside, but it's not. That's how the Garrisons always stay hidden. The place doesn't look like a town. It just looks like a pile of debris."

"Shut up!" another man hissed at him.

"Good," Vulpes said in a smooth, unsettling way. "I'm glad that our destination is so close by... that gives me plenty of time."

"Time for what, My Lord?" One of the Legion Veterans asked.

"Time for Kingsport," Vulpes replied. "We wouldn't want to leave our gracious hosts without a parting gift, would we? Let us show them how we show our gratitude for... profligate hospitality."

The Legion obeyed. They began to invade Kingsport, and the town's people ran in all directions, screaming in panic. The few who dared to draw their guns opened fire, but they were no match for the Legionaries. Vulpes' Legion spent the morning tearing Kingsport to pieces, burning it building by building, cleansing it person by person. The town lay in smoldering ruins by the time Vulpes finally decided it was time to move on, to find the Garrison slavers and to ensure that they meet the same fate as Kingsport, as Nipton, as Searchlight...

Nothing could save the Garrison slavers now. Vulpes was certain of it.


	20. The Garrison Gang & The Courier Army

_Charon was raised by an interesting group of people. They... well, I guess you could say they brainwashed him._

The ride on the carriage lasted for hours. Sandra lay on the floor of the carriage, her hands bound behind her back, her neck fitted with a clunky, uncomfortable collar. The deep wound on her arm - the one Zimmer had inflicted on her - was burning like hell now. Arcade had stitched it shut and wrapped in in layers of gauze wrap, but after her struggle with the slavers, it was pulsating in pain, as was the rest of her body. The shock from the collar had fried her into an almost vegetative state. Even without the ropes tied around her wrists and torso, she doubted she could move much if she tried. The others occupying this carriage were here against their will, too. She knew exactly what was going on, exactly what trouble she'd landed herself in...

 _He is unwaveringly loyal to whoever holds his contract._

Yes, Sandra remembered that conversation. Upon her first visit to Underworld, she met a shady ghoul named Ahzrukhal. Ahzrukhal owned Charon's contract - and that was the first thing to prompt her into buying it. She didn't like thinking that Charon was stuck there against his will. She'd wanted to save him from his enslavement... but now, she herself was about to be trapped in the same situation, only in her case, nobody would be coming to rescue her. Her friends had no idea where she was, and she didn't know where she was being taken. This was the end for her. She'd never see Arcade or Niner again. All the talks, the adventures, the late night parties on the strip, the plans to revolutionize New Vegas... it was all over forever.

 _"Nah, you're not gonna take this shit,"_ Charon whispered into her ear. _"Get up. Sit up. Come on. Don't lay down like you're all defeated. Get up, Mistress."_

Sandra, still feeling like someone had stabbed needles into every part of her body, forced herself to sit upright, leaning on one of the carriage's benches and letting out a stressed sigh. The other slaves gave her looks of intrigue. None of them spoke.

"But you took it..." she whispered to nobody. "You let them brainwash you... and you... you're so much stronger than me... if they broke you, then... what chance do I have...?"

The slaves all stared at her, looking puzzled.

 _"Cause you've got something that I never had,"_ Charon replied. _"You've got things to strive for. Goals. People you care about. A home to go back to."_

"If you didn't believe in slavery, then... why did you obey everyone who held your contract...?" Sandra mumbled groggily. "Why'd you obey me...?"

 _"Well... maybe I was with you just 'cause I wanted to be,"_ Charon told her. _"Took me a while to realize it, but... that's what it was. Now stay sitting up. Don't let them see you looking tired and shit. You're gonna have to be strong to get through this. You've got this, kid. You're not gonna let them break you. I know it."_

Sandra's head slumped back, and she released a relieved breath, flashing an eerily peaceful smile. She'd get through this somehow... as long as Charon stayed with her...

After a while, the brahmin pulled the carriage into a town that reminded Sandra of Paradise Falls. It was made up of three distinct factors; broken buildings, people in slave collars doing manual labor, and slavers standing around the fire barrels and laughing with each other. The carriage came to a stop behind a small building, and the two leaders - Sandra guessed they must have been the leaders, as they were better armed and more heavily armored than the other slavers - marched up to their new collection of slaves. One of them was a burly guy with a mohawk, and the other was a guy of similar stature, but he had hair shaved down to the scalp. The two shared a lot of physical traits, and they were both wearing metal armor.

"Billy," one of them said. "You wanna keep any of these? Or you wanna send them all to the auction?"

"I dunno. Whatchu think, Pete?" the other replied. "I dunno what any of 'em are good for, to be honest. I don't wanna keep one of the women for myself and end up getting in trouble because she turned out to be a doctor or something. Can't be turnin' doctors into whores."

"That'd make a sexy game of 'doctor,' though," the one called Billy laughed. "We're gonna have to keep 'em all for a while, anyway. Auctions aren't until next week. We'll work 'em all to the bone, see what they're good for... then we'll keep the ones we want for ourselves, put the rest up or sale."

Pete - the one with the mohawk - approached the group. He ordered all of the slaves to stand in a line, and then, he marched back and forth, looking each of them up and down. He stopped at Sandra, glared at her, and said nothing. He then moved on to the person standing beside Sandra; to Sandra's right, there were three other slaves, a mismatched group. One of them was a hulking son of a bitch, probably the biggest person Sandra had ever seen, a gigantic black man with a bald head, and he had twice as many ropes around his arms and hands as everyone else. The slavers probably feared that this monstrous individual would break free if they didn't tie him down well enough. The second slave was a young girl who couldn't have been more than fourteen. She had short strawberry blonde hair, and her shiny hazel eyes were wide with fear. The third in line was a ghoul with an orangeish skin tone, and the way his foggy blue eyes were following Pete... it made Sandra think of Charon. This ghoul, whoever he was, had a particular bloodlust in his eyes.

"Look at this big black fuck," Pete said, staring up at the giant man's face. "He's good for at least a thousand caps. This fucker can get any kind of labor done. Look at him."

"Yeah, but we've got plenty of laborers," Billy replied. "I was kinda hoping we'd get some new meat for the whorehouse, honestly..."

"Well... it's a good thing we wrangled this one, then," Pete sneered, grabbing the tiny girl by the jaw and turning her head, surveying her features rather closely. "Cute as a button, ain't she? And she's still got some innocence in there. Oh, I can't _wait_ to play with her..."

The girl whimpered.

Sandra glared at Pete hatefully.

Then, a rumbling noise occurred. It took everyone a moment to realize where it was coming from.

Everyone's focus shifted to the orangeish ghoul. The ghoul was hunching forward, glaring heatedly at Pete and letting out a raspy, furious growl.

"Ooo... we got ourselves a stand-up guy, here," Pete said, smirking at the ghoul. "What, zombie? What're you growling about? You need the shock collar again?"

The ghoul's growl became louder. He bared his teeth at the slavers like an angry dog about to pounce.

"I think he needs more than a shock," Billy commented. "Took us forever to capture him. He's crazy as fuck. He needs a shock _and_ a good beating."

The ghoul snapped at Billy. Pete activated the ghoul's shock collar, creating an explosion of blue light and making the ghoul fall to the ground. Billy and Pete retrieved a couple of baseball bats from their fellow slavers, and they took turns beating the ghoul. The ghoul rasped and snarled, but with his hands tied, he couldn't do much to fight back.

"S-stop it!" the tiny girl cried out.

The slavers ignored her and continued their beating. Moments later, the ghoul fell unconscious, but the slavers didn't let up on him nonetheless.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Sandra bellowed.

Pete and Billy both stopped, turning slowly and staring at Sandra as if they'd never seen anything quite like her before.

"What, bitch...?" Pete panted, advancing on her. "What the fuck did you say?"

"That... that's enough," Sandra repeated, glimpsing down at the ghoul sadly. "You knocked him out cold. That's enough. Just leave him alone."

Pete's mouth fell open. "Are you hearing this, bro?" he said, pointing at her and cocking his head at Billy. "She's talking to us like she's a human being or some shit. Like she thinks she's a fuckin' equal to us."

"Fuck her up," Billy replied.

Pete swung his bat, and Sandra forced herself to stumble backwards just in the nick of time. She fell onto the pavement, but having a slight pain in her butt was much better than getting hit in the head with a bat, she figured. Pete became furious when he missed his strike; he threw the bat down, grabbed Sandra by the collar, lifted her to her feet, and delivered an unavoidable punch, then another, then another. Pete continued to wail on her, punching her in the face over and over again. Sandra's eyes were watering, and the pain was growing harder to endure with each strike, but she didn't make a sound until Pete was finished. When he finally released her, Sandra's usually clear skin was blotching with black and blue, and there was a steady stream of blood oozing from her mouth and running down her chin.

Pete regained his breath and glared at Sandra.

Any other time, Sandra might have cried, or she might have retaliated with a good fight or at least a barrage of insults. But now... she said and did nothing. She merely returned Pete's stare, remaining as quiet as ever, a mad smile on her face and a psychotic twinkle in her eye.

 _"Thatta' girl,"_ Charon said. _"Don't give 'em nothing."_

"Crazy bitch," Pete spat. "I hope some poor bastard buys your ass and fucks you to death. Not me... I ain't touching you with a ten-foot pole, you ugly whore."

 _"That's good,"_ Charon whispered to Sandra. _"That means he's scared of you. Doing good so far, kid. Keep it up."_

"Yeah... scared... good for me, Charon... thanks..." Sandra blubbered almost incomprehensibly.

Pete and Billy both gave her an odd look, then traded confused glances with each other.

"Great... we got a ghoul that's damn near feral and a crazy bitch who talks to herself," Billy said. "The big black fuck and the little soon-to-be slut are the real catches here."

"Throw them in the holding pen," Pete responded. "We'll figure out what to do with 'em tomorrow. Hey - you, big black fucker - you're gonna have to carry the ghoul. Come on."

The slaver brothers removed the ropes from the enormous man, allowing him to scoop the unconscious ghoul off the ground. Pete removed the ropes from all of the slaves soon after. "Don't get any ideas about wandering off just because your hands are untied," he told them all. "Your shock collars have more than one function. You wander too far from us, and POP goes your head. You leave proximity, the collar detonates, and you're fucking dead. Get it? Good."

The slavers shuffled them into the small building. The building contained almost nothing, except for a desk in the front and a large jail cell in the back. This was where the slave auctions took place, it seemed. After locking the four of them in the cell, Pete and Billy left the shack. The four slaves sat in silence for a while, the ghoul lying on one of the filthy makeshift beds, the little girl sobbing softly into her hands, and the giant man staring through the bars thoughtfully.

Sandra was nodding in and out of consciousness. She wasn't tired or hungry, simply disoriented. It'd been a long time since she'd gotten so many injuries at once. The slice from Zimmer's sword was stinging more and more, and her face felt like a bruised banana. When the world around her finally stopped spinning, she gave each of her cellmates a thorough once-over.

"Hey..." Sandra said, tenderly placing a hand on the young girl's back. She jumped. "Shh. It's gonna be okay."

The girl peered up at her, her eyes torn open with fear and despair.

"You shouldn't have done that," the giant man said in a deep, smooth voice.

Sandra blinked. "Who, me?"

"Yes."

"Shouldn't have done what?"

"You shouldn't have given them any reason to give you extra attention."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"I didn't see _you_ doing anything."

"That's because I know better. You can't fight slavers with your hands tied up and your neck trapped in an explosive collar," the man said. "You have to bide your time. Wait for the right moment."

 _"Yeah right,"_ Charon scoffed. _"You can't stop fighting them, ever. You fight them every day of your life. That's the only way you keep yourself. Don't listen to this giant fuck, kid. You did_ good _."_

"Whatever," Sandra muttered. "Hey... kiddo... what's your name?"

The girl sniffled into the sleeve of her dirty pink shirt.

"S-Sally," she stuttered.

"Okay, Sally... you wanna do me a favor?" Sandra asked. "Come over here... help me check on him, see if he's okay." She motioned to the ghoul.

The girls knelt around the ghoul and began checking his vitals. He was breathing alright, but he had some nasty bumps and bleeding gashes from where the slavers had beaten him.

"I'd be more worried about myself if I were you," the giant man said.

"I'm not worried about myself," Sandra replied, lifting her arm to check her Pip-Boy, but her Pip-Boy was gone. Usually, she could rely on her Pip-Boy to keep track of her vitals for her, but not anymore. The slavers had taken everything but the clothes on her back.

"That means they have your gun..." Sandra mumbled to Charon. "They took your gun from me..."

 _"You'll get it back,"_ Charon assured. _"Give it time."_

Sally squinted at her. "Wh-who are you talking to?"

"Talking to myself... thinking out loud... don't worry about it," Sandra answered. "We need to focus on making a game plan."

"Game plan?" Sally squeaked.

"Yeah, y'know... a plan to get out of here," Sandra went on. "Any ideas?"

The others went silent.

"Hey, what's your name?" Sandra asked the giant.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"We're not gonna get out of here if we're all distant with each other," Sandra said. "All we've got is each other right now. So... what's your name?"

"Dante," the giant told her.

"Okay, Dante, Sally... my name's Sandra," Sandra informed them. "And, this ghoul... do either of you know him? What's his name?"

They both shrugged.

"Don't know, don't care," Dante said. "That ghoul is liable to get us all killed. We'd be better off making a plan without it dragging us down."

"Yeah, well, that's not gonna happen," Sandra snarled. "He doesn't deserve to be stuck in here any more than you do. And he's not an 'it,' he's a 'he,' okay?"

"It's a foul creature, and it's less tame than one of the Garrison's rabid dogs," Dante grouched. "Ghouls can't be trusted."

 _"Shit... he's a charmer, ain't he?"_ Charon laughed. _"Don't let him get inside your head, Mistress. It don't_ _matter what he thinks of ghouls. Stick to the issue."_

"The Garrisons..." Sandra said. "Who're the Garrisons?"

"A big gang," Dante told her. "Most of the people in this gang aren't actually from the Garrison family, but it's called the Garrison Gang because it was founded by the Garrison brothers. Pete Garrison and Bill Garrison. Also known as Shifty Pete and Filthy Bill, in some parts."

"How do you know all this?"

"Because I've been investigating them."

"You're an investigator? Like... a detective? Do you work for the NCR?"

"No."

"Who do you work for, then?"

"None of your business."

Sandra sighed. "Fine. So... what's the plan, then?"

 _"My_ plan is to wait," Dante told her. "Stay here for a little while. Observe their routines. Get a feel for how they handle things. Then... I'll know when they'd be most vulnerable. I'll know when's the best time to strike. We can't do anything right this second. Like I said... we have to bide our time."

Sandra didn't have a reply to this. Sally began to cry again, and Sandra held her, allowing her to cry into her chest.

A bit of time passed. Eventually, Dante fell asleep sitting up, and Sally sobbed herself into a light slumber on top of her dirty mattress. Sandra grabbed a nearby blanket (which was actually a heavily tattered curtain) and draped it over the young girl.

The courier sat alone in the darkness with her back against the wall. After everything she'd been through, there was no way she'd get any sleep. Her mind ventured to everything from the beautiful Vegas lights on the night sky to the fluorescent lighting back in Vault 101. She wondered if she'd ever get to see either one of them again...

 _"Check on him,"_ Charon reminded her.

Sandra turned her head, seeing that the ghoul was beginning to stir awake. He growled and moaned, trying to sit upright and failing due to the ropes that were still bound around him.

"Hey, hey, calm down..." Sandra whispered. "You're alright. You're fine. Let me get those off you."

The ghoul fought and struggled until he managed to stand on his knees. He locked eyes with Sandra, and after several seconds of staring, he calmed himself.

Sandra knelt behind him and began to untie the ropes. With no light and nothing to use to cut the ropes, it took some time, but she was eventually able to pull all the ropes off him.

"There you go..." she said, tossing the ropes aside. "Are you okay?"

The ghoul gaped at her, looking like he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

"What's your name?" Sandra asked him kindly.

Again, the ghoul didn't speak. He made a rasping sound, pointing at his throat and shaking his head.

"You... can't talk?" Sandra guessed.

The ghoul looked down without replying.

"Do you... have a name?" Sandra asked.

He shook his head.

"Okay... how about I call you Ziggy?" Sandra suggested. "You should have a name. Ziggy has a nice ring to it."

The ghoul gazed wordlessly at her for a moment. Then, he smiled and gave her a thumbs-up.

"Good," Sandra said. "Now... I know this sucks, but... we're gonna get out of this. Okay? But you have to be calm. We have to be patient and wait for the right time. Alright, Ziggy?"

Ziggy made a halfhearted nod.

"It's the only choice we have," Sandra told him. "We'll look out for each other. Okay?"

Ziggy looked away. His eyes darted all over the cell until he found what he was looking for. Near the cell door, the slavers had left a plate with three slabs of mysterious meat on it, as well as a few bottles of filthy, radioactive water. Ziggy grabbed the plate of meat and placed it in his lap, ogling it hungrily.

"I don't think you should..." Sandra started, but Ziggy had already started scarfing down the meat.

For a moment, she simply watched him.

"I think that might be human meat," Sandra said, remembering when she and Charon visited Andale. "My friend told me that slave camps like to feed the dead slaves to the live ones. I just... don't think we should eat it."

Ziggy didn't seem bothered by this. Once the first slab of meat was gone, he gave another thumbs-up, cleared his throat, and tried very hard to speak.

"PeOplE GoOd," he rasped in a terribly hoarse voice.

"So you _can_ talk... sort of..." Sandra muttered. "Okay... just promise not to eat me, okay?"

Ziggy nodded vigorously and continued his feast.

 _"Eh,"_ Charon shrugged. _"Different strokes..."_

Sandra crossed her arms and leaned on the wall. Even though she didn't want to sleep, she was beginning to grow tired, and it was getting the better of her. Now, she didn't feel as unnerved as she did before, strangely enough.

Something about having a murderous ghoul by her side made her rest easier.

She'd only get a few hours of sleep before the Garrison brothers returned to the holding pen.

Pete slammed a tire iron into the bars, making the slaves jolt awake.

"Come on," he barked, pointing at Sally. "We need to put you fuckers to the test. You're going first. The other hussies are gonna teach you how to dance for us."

"N-no, please, I..." Sally stammered. "I... I can do labor! I can work!"

Pete laughed at her. "I dunno what you're so bent out of shape for, sweetheart. Girls are lucky to end up in the whorehouse. You're lucky you're not as ugly as that sack a' shit over there," he said, thrusting his thumb at Sandra. "Besides... you're too frail to be doing manual labor. You're too pretty to waste on the bitch work. Come on. Now."

"It's okay," Sandra said as Sally climbed to her feet. "You'll be okay. Just do what they say, and you'll be okay."

Sally glumly followed Pete out of the building. Billy stayed behind, sitting at the desk and lazily propping up his feet.

"Pete's pickier than I am," Billy said. "I'd fuck you, redhead. I think you're hot."

"Thanks," Sandra replied coldly.

They were quiet for a while. Dante continued to gaze ominously out through the bars, and Ziggy took a seated position right beside Sandra, hovering close to her and occasionally letting out a low grumble of distaste. Billy was occupying himself by repeatedly tossing a pencil into the air and seeing how high it would go before hitting the ceiling. Sandra only just noticed that most of her belongings - her satchel, her Pip-Boy, and her shotgun - were sitting on the desk, as well as a few other random items, which she guessed must have belonged to the other slaves.

The windows turned a brilliant orange color when the sun began to rise. It was the most beautiful thing that Sandra had seen in what felt like years.

"You three are going up the hill today," Billy said. "Y'all are gonna clear out some debris from one of those buildings so we can use it. Pete wants to make it into a bigger auction room, but that sounds like a damn waste to me. I thought it'd be cool if we turned it into a bar..."

No one replied to him.

When the deep orange sunlight faded into a bright yellow, someone else entered the building. Sandra expected it to be Pete, but it was another slaver, a skinnier, less-equipped one. Probably one of their lower-ranking thugs.

"Sir," the slaver said. "We have visitors."

"This early in the morning?" Billy grumped. "The fuck do they want? We don't have any auctions today. Tell them to fuck off."

"They... th-they aren't here for the auctions..." the man stuttered.

Sandra slowly stood, eyeing the man from the other side of the room. This man seemed shaken. Terrified, even. What could possibly scare a slaver so badly?

"What are they here for, then?" Billy demanded. "Who the fuck thinks they're so important they can just-"

 _Creeeeak._

Someone entered the room from behind the slaver, slowly pushing the door open and stepping inside. The crimson-clad frumentarius was followed by five other Legionaries, and the rest were standing outside. Sandra couldn't entirely make them out, as the morning sun was blaring over them and distorting them into humanoid silhouettes, though she was able to see the shape of the coyote headdress worn by the group's leader...

"Good morning," said a smooth, eery voice, one that Sandra recognized.

"Hey, buddy, I don't know what you heard, but this place ain't a..." Billy began, but he trailed off when his eyes traveled up and down the bodies of the men before him, only just realizing who they were. Sports armor, animal headdresses, red tribal wear...

"You're an enemy of the Legion," Vulpes said simply. "I don't extend manners to reprobates like yourselves... especially not under these interesting circumstances."

 _No way,_ Sandra thought frantically.

"Enemy of the..." Billy said. "We didn't do anything to the Legion."

The creepy smile on Vulpes' face vanished.

"I don't appreciate you crossing me... and I _especially_ don't appreciate you lying to my face about it," Vulpes snarled. "You've killed my men. Kidnapped them, perhaps. Either way... all the evidence of their disappearances comes back to you, the Garrison slavers. Infamous human trash, you are. Infecting my wasteland with your treachery. As if the Mojave wasn't demoralized enough."

"So what if we did?" Billy challenged. "What is this? An invasion? We can duke it out if you want."

Vulpes said nothing. He slowly marched forward, his eyes scanning over everything on the desk.

 _Come on,_ Sandra silently pleaded. _Look over here. Look at the cell. Look at me._

Vulpes' eyes landed on the Pip-Boy. He picked it up and turned it over, examining every inch of it. Then, his gaze moved upwards, and from over Billy Garrison's shoulder, he met eyes with Sandra.

"Put that down," Billy ordered. "That's my property."

"No... it isn't," Vulpes muttered. He stared at Sandra for a moment, then returned his attention to Billy. "Nor are my Legionaries."

"Put it _down,_ I said!" Billy reached forward and tried to confiscate the Pip-Boy.

Vulpes yanked it out of his reach, and in the same swift movement, he drew his ripper and held it dangerously close to Billy's neck.

Billy froze.

"Do not... and hear me closely when I say this," Vulpes hissed menacingly. "Do _not_ make the mistake of speaking to me as an equal, _much_ less daring to look down on me. You... your little gang of drug-addicted scum... are nothing. You're nothing to me. You're nothing to my Legion. You're nothing to the rest of the world. You, collectively, amount to absolutely nothing. And... no one would miss your little rink-dink town if it happened to be burned off the map of the Mojave."

Billy chuckled. "I'd like to see you try to pull a stunt like that, freak."

Vulpes gently nudged the ripper's blades into the skin of Billy' throat. If he were to power it on, Billy would be a goner in an instant.

"I already have," Vulpes said devilishly. "Kingsport was first. You're next."

Billy's eyes widened.

"That's right," Vulpes sneered, forming a wicked smile. "All burned, all dead, and all it took was one _very_ fruitful morning of exercise for my Legionaries. We even had time to eat a healthy lunch before we left. Your dead kinfolk were kind enough to leave us all their spoils when they passed."

"You motherf..."

"Oh, save your breath, profligate. You'll need it when you're doing all that screaming, begging for mercy... and eventually, begging for death," Vulpes said. "Just like all your precious friends did. Oh, the crackling of the flames as the buildings burned... it rang in perfect harmony with those wretched cries of agony. You think you're cruel, and mean, and hardened to the world, don't you? But you... you can't imagine the serenity it brings me to hear the crackling of the fires... while listening to the desperate screams of anguish from your kind as the skin melts off their bones."

Billy's mouth was hanging so low, his jaw looked like it might separate from the rest of his face.

"Trust me," Vulpes said. "As mean as you think you are... you're as innocent as a child compared to me, boy. You and your little gang alike. You're a slummy little clubhouse of untamed children playing war games. Like I said... you and everyone like you collectively amount to nothing. And you _will_ know your place. In due time."

Vulpes took another quick glimpse of the holding cell.

"I'll give you... one day," he said. "You have one day to release my Legionaries. If you fail to comply... or, if my Legionaries happen to be dead... then we'll be back. And next time, there will be considerably less conversation between us. Do I make myself clear, boy?"

Billy slowly nodded.

"Good," Vulpes said. "I bid you vale - until we meet again."

He turned and led his Legionaries outside, carrying Sandra's Pip-Boy by his side as he went. Despite his unmistakably terrifying presence, Vulpes was half a head shorter than most of his followers, and he was easily half the age of the Garrison brothers, whom he apparently enjoyed calling 'children' or 'boys.' Sandra almost laughed. It was amazing, how easily he'd intimidated these people, these slavers. She only wished that he would have stayed longer. If ever there was a time for a Legion invasion, it was now.

As the Legion made their way towards the town's exit, Vulpes' right-hand man - a frumentarius named Orion - jogged up to him and questioned him.

"My Lord," Orion said. "Why are we leaving? I thought we planned to burn the town upon arrival."

"We did," Vulpes replied, twisting the Pip-Boy upside down and staring into it. "But now... I have another plan."

"Another plan, My Lord?"

"Yes."

"What is it? If I may ask."

"Well..." Vulpes said. "The last thing we need is another factor chipping away at our manpower. Why throw Legionary lives at profligates when we can simply make the profligates chip away at each other?"

"I don't understand..." Orion replied.

"Have faith in Your Lord," Vulpes told him. "It will all come together soon. I promise."

* * *

"Gannon - we've got a live one."

Arcade looked up from his book. He was sitting in the back tent, in the same spot he always used to frequent. All day, he'd been tending to patients left and right, and he'd only been left alone with his book for about an hour before Julie called him for help again. The Followers had more medicine to spare nowadays, now that they had established a good chem trade with the Wrangler, but there also seemed to be more patients visiting the fort than usual. Many were refugees who had escaped Legion encampments miles away, or that's what he assumed, anyway. He wasn't aware of any other slavers that threatened the safety of the Mojave. He didn't know where else these escapees could have been coming from.

When he left the tent, he expected to see Julie escorting another patient to him, but he was surprised to see that she was instead cradling a creature in her arms. It was a soft, tan, lizard-like creature, and its chest had been cut open deeply, letting blood pour down its body and shining its scales with a deep crimson glaze.

"I found this little guy limping around outside," Julie said. "Looks like a baby deathclaw... couldn't bring myself to leave it out there. Pacer said that it belonged to your courier friend. Is that true?"

"Ah... yeah," Arcade replied, surveying the baby deathclaw up and down. "What happened to it...?"

"Don't know. Looks like it got loose and ended up getting attacked by something," Julie figured. "It was hobbling around near the north gate."

Arcade gently took the deathclaw from Julie, escorted it back to the tent, and began administering first aid to it.

The baby deathclaw squeaked weakly at him.

"Don't suppose you could tell me where Sandra got off to, huh?" Arcade said. "Man, this is deep... it's gonna leave one hell of a scar."

He cleaned and bandaged the wound. Afterward, he stared into the deathclaw for several thoughtful seconds.

"I don't see her leaving you out there by yourself..." he muttered. "And... if you were attacked, and if she's not with you, then... something bad's happened."

Julie poked her head into the tent. "How is the little guy?"

"He's fine..." Arcade mumbled distractedly.

"What's its name?" Julie asked.

"Ah..." Arcade looked over the deathclaw. "It... Scar. Its name is Scar."

"Scar? Why Scar? You couldn't think of anything be-"

"Listen, I have to go."

Arcade stood, swiped the deathclaw off the table, and headed for the exit without giving Julie an explanation. Something was wrong, but he couldn't place what. If something had happened to Sandra, then they'd have to find her fast... otherwise, the odds were that she'd end up being another casualty of the wasteland.

When he reached the Lucky 38, Arcade found that Raul, Boone, and Niner were lounging in the casino. Niner and Boone were playing with the slot machines, and Raul was searching through the collection of sodas and liquors near the bar counter.

"Have any of you seen Sandra today?" Arcade asked them.

"Nah," Niner said. "She said she wanted to be alone for a while, then she walked off and left. I thought she woulda' talked to you on her way out of town, but I guess not..."

"I haven't seen her either," Raul answered.

"Me either," Boone said.

Arcade frowned at the carpet. Scar was getting restless in his arms, so he allowed the deathclaw to jump down and run free through the casino. Arcade then sat on the two stairs near the entrance, resting his chin on his knuckles and pondering on what could have happened. Niner and Boone decided to take the elevator to the hotel suite in order to play billiards. Raul left the bar area and seated himself on another platform, not too far from Arcade.

"I've seen that look before," Raul said. "I'm starting to think you have anxiety. You worry more than anyone I know."

"Yeah, well, this world gives a man plenty of reasons to worry..." Arcade murmured. "I don't know. Last time she left, when she went to the Big Empty and the Madre and everything... she told us where she was going before she left. She told us about going to the Northern Passage for a courier job. She told us everything. But this time... she didn't tell us anything. Then, I find her pet deathclaw beaten up like it's been attacked, and she's nowhere to be found. It doesn't look good."

"'Scuse me, fellas," one of the securitrons said, rolling inside from one of the main doors. It was Victor.

"Yes?" Arcade replied.

"There's a dapper lookin' fella outside, says he needs to talk to a doctor?" Victor said. "Fella calls himself Mr. Fox. And, uh... he's got something of yours, he says."

Arcade and Raul gave each other odd looks. They went to the door and stood in the opening, seeing a suited, disguised frumentarius staring back at them, holding Sandra's Pip-Boy up for them to see.

"Not keeping very good tabs on your courier, are you, doctor?" Vulpes said with a smirk. "Shame on you."


	21. Tales of a Slave's Life

Arcade's heart might've stopped.

Vulpes Inculta - this was the last person he expected to see, standing on the platform of the Lucky 38 as casual as ever, holding Sandra's Pip-Boy in his hand. Arcade's knuckles cracked when he balled his hands into fists, his breath slowing, his mind racing. An evil threat to New Vegas, right in front of him, holding his friend's Pip-Boy and looking like he had no idea that he was standing on the doorstep of his enemies...

"What..." Arcade started, unable to find the right words.

"Move aside," Vulpes said, pushing the door open and letting himself in. Raul closed the door behind him.

Arcade didn't know if he was furious, worried, confused, or some overwhelming combination of the three. He gawked at Vulpes as if ogling an alien species.

"Close your mouth, doctor," Vulpes said calmly. "You'll catch flies."

"Oh... right. Excuse me for being surprised. I guess I should've been expecting the Legion's top spy to drop by for tea," Arcade snarked in response. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was feeling considerate," Vulpes said, tossing the Pip-Boy to Arcade. "Thought you might want this back."

"Why do you have this?" Arcade asked, holding up the Pip-Boy. "Where's Sandra?"

"Ah... yes. The obvious question. I gave you the Pip-Boy for free, but if you want information, then I'll want something in return," Vulpes replied.

"Right. Sure. I don't know what you want and I don't care," Arcade shot back. "We don't help Legionaries. Period."

"Really... then I'll be sure to let your courier know her friends couldn't rescue her. I'll have to tell her that her friends left her out to dry... because their minds were clouded by pride," Vulpes sneered.

Arcade's teeth ground together.

Raul reclaimed his seat on the platform's side, watching both of them silently.

"If you agree to do me this favor, then you'll be helping yourselves as well," Vulpes added. "I was going to propose that you assist the Legion in liberating some captured slaves from a town of slavers. That's where your courier is right now. I would think that you'd run off to rescue her with or without me in the equation... however, if I give you coordinates to this place, I'd like some assurance that my Legionaries won't get caught in your crossfire."

"That can't be the only reason you came here," Arcade said at once. "If you wanted manpower, you'd just run back to your camp and drag more Legionaries off to fight this battle."

"I've been losing Legionaries to pointless and avoidable situations," Vulpes replied. "Lord Caesar was the only person who knew how to use his Auto-Doc, and now, we have no way of healing our sick. We've lost people to disease, infection, war, and now, this band of slavers. I'm not willing to throw more of my people into the line of fire. Not when our numbers are dwindling already."

"So it's better to waste _our_ lives, is that it?" Arcade growled. "Throw us under the bus so you can preserve your precious Legion?"

"Yes," Vulpes snarled. "Besides... I wouldn't think that you'd find it a waste of time, doctor. Your friend's life hangs in the balance. Is that really a waste of your time and effort? Saving your poor courier?"

"You're a filthy scoundrel..." Arcade fumed.

"You're a filthy profligate," Vulpes retorted. "Yet, here we are, discussing business like proper gentlemen. You want your Mojave purged of slavers, do you not?"

 _"You're_ a slaver," Arcade snapped. "You and your whole Legion are slavers."

Vulpes crossed his arms and glared at Arcade. "I give purpose to people who have none. That is not slavery. That is liberation."

"You're _unbelievable!"_ Arcade exclaimed. "Slave collars, raping and pillaging towns, killing everything in your path - and you _still_ insist that you have the moral high ground? You're a monster."

"I didn't come here to fight you, doctor, but if you insist... I could lash your body to the top of this eyesore of a tower. Give the tourists a real attraction to see."

"Yeah? Try me."

They both reached for their weapons, Arcade grabbing the handle of his plasma defender and Vulpes coiling his fingers around the handle of his ripper. Raul leaped up and stood between both of them.

"You're both being stupid," Raul said.

"Excuse me?" Arcade scoffed. "How am I being stupid?"

"Because... you both have a common goal here," Raul replied. "You both want the Mojave to have less raiders and slavers. And we need to get Sandra out of there. Thing is... whether you like the Legion or not... right now, right this second, you have the same goal as them. We might need to take advantage of that."

"And, it might interest you to actually _think_ clearly about this situation before casting aside my proposal," Vulpes said. "You don't _have_ to throw your own lives into this battle. You have a unique set of manpower that no other faction in the Mojave possesses. You have soldiers that can fight in battles and never die. Even when your soldiers get destroyed... no one dies. You have manpower without the added burden of losing your soldiers to the bloodshed of war."

Arcade went silent. It was true; they had some influence over Mr. House and his securitrons. If they used the securitrons, they'd be able to wipe out a town of slavers without possibly getting themselves killed in the process.

"You use your bots to win this battle... and neither of us will suffer any losses," Vulpes said. "That's my proposal."

"Well, that sounds downright agreeable," Arcade responded. "Which makes me think that you have some ulterior motive here."

"I don't," Vulpes told him. "Your bots, with their new operating system? Functioning at full capacity? Of course I want them fighting on my side. Is that so hard to believe?"

"No, but you're notorious for striking deals with settlements and betraying everyone you..." Arcade began. He paused, narrowing his eyes at Vulpes. "Hang on. How do you know about the MKII Operating System?"

"Because I'm the greatest of my Legion's frumentarii," Vulpes replied. "I'm a seeker of knowledge."

"No... you couldn't have gotten that information just from spy work. Nobody else knew about it. Nobody except for Sandra," Arcade said. "She wouldn't have told you..."

"You don't know her as well as you think, then," Vulpes told him. "And it hardly matters, in any case. Now... tell me, are you going to use your bots to exterminate the slavers? Do you want to know where she is, or not?"

Arcade and Raul met eyes. They stared at each other for several tense seconds.

"Yeah..." Arcade reluctantly said. "You've got a deal-"

 _Shhhk._

Arcade and Raul turned when they heard the sound of the elevator open. Boone and Niner were standing in its doorway. Niner was counting out the bottle caps in his hands, not seeming to care what was going on, but Boone's eyes shot a piercing look across the room, his glare burning into Vulpes. Immediately, Boone flipped the rifle off his back and took aim.

 _"Don't!"_

Arcade stood in front of Vulpes like a human shield.

Boone gave the doctor a befuddled, furious look. "Move it or lose it, Arcade. I dunno who let the Legion dog in, but he's going the way of Old Yeller."

"You can't," Arcade said breathlessly. "I... I don't like it any more than you do, but... you can't kill him. Not now."

"Why the fuck not?!" Boone demanded. "What the fuck is he doing in here, anyway?!"

"Sandra was kidnapped by slavers," Arcade quickly explained. "Vulpes knows where she is. We can't kill him."

"I don't think you _could_ kill me even if you tried," Vulpes mumbled. "Silly sniper."

Arcade looked over his shoulder, giving Vulpes a severe expression. "You. Hush."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me..." Boone swore. "You, Arcade? Of _all_ people? You'd really protect that piece of shit?"

"Like I said... he knows where Sandra is," Arcade stated. "We can't kill him."

Arcade and Boone shared a long, intense standoff. Boone had his rifle aimed directly at Arcade's chest.

"You're forgetting that he tried to kill us," Boone snarled.

"I haven't forgotten anything," Arcade replied. "Priorities are what they are. Revenge isn't a priority."

"Okay... fine," Boone spat, lowering his rifle and stepping into the elevator. "You wanna go frolicking with the Legion, you can do it without me. I'm out. Good riddance."

The sniper enclosed himself in the elevator and rode up to the suite by himself, leaving Niner standing alone and confused, looking up from his bottle caps and trying to figure out what was going on.

Arcade released a cloud of breath. He turned to face Vulpes.

"North of Nellis," Vulpes said. "The slavers are called the Garrison Gang, and they reside in a place called Rubble Town. My Legion will attack from the east at dawn. Take your bots to the west, and we'll close them in. Take a route around Nellis to avoid their artillery, then follow the road from Kingsport. You'll recognize the town when you see it. It'll be the one smoldering in embers, smelling of freshly burnt flesh."

Arcade gave him a disgusted scowl.

Vulpes smirked.

"At the crack of dawn, doctor, and not a moment later," the fox said, marching towards the exit. "Don't be tardy to the party. Or else... amicum tuum et morieris."

* * *

Sandra's day in Rubble Town was absolute hell.

Throughout the course of the day - before Vulpes had reached the strip, when the frumentarius was making his way back to Vegas - Sandra was tasked with clearing out massive hunks of debris from the hallways and basements of a crumbling building. Fortunately, Dante and Ziggy were there to help her. Without them, she doubted she would have lasted long. The wound in her arm was burning with every movement, and her face still ached like hell. She, Ziggy, and Dante were hauling the chunks of concrete to a dumpster for hours. After a while, Sandra became so tired, she dropped one of them on her foot, and she didn't even bother trying to get it off, even though it felt to be crushing her toes.

One of the slavers spotted her. "Slacking, huh?" the slaver said, lifting her bat. "This is what we do to lazy bitches like you."

"Hang on," Dante intervened. "The concrete slab fell on her foot. She's not slacking. She's injured."

Dante lifted the concrete slab off of Sandra and carried it off.

"Thanks," Sandra said weakly.

"Don't thank me," Dante replied. "Get yourself together."

Sandra bent to examine her foot. When she did, she was knocked to the ground by a hard, blunt force nailing her in the back of the neck. The slaver woman hit her a second time with the bat, laughing and kicking Sandra in the stomach.

"I don't give a fuck if your foot hurts," the slaver said. "Get your worthless ass up and get back to wo-"

Just then, someone tackled the woman to the ground with the force of a cannonball.

Ziggy smashed the slaver woman onto the ground, clawing at her skin and tearing at her with his bare teeth. "NeVeEEER! StOp YoU!" he growled and hissed terribly as he continued to tear into the woman.

Pete darted up to the ghoul and activated his collar, making a burst of electricity explode around Ziggy's body. Sandra gasped, and Ziggy went limp.

Pete and his fellow slavers were getting ready to beat the ghoul to a pulp, but Sandra grabbed Ziggy and dragged him away. Apparently, the slavers didn't care enough about beating Ziggy to follow after them (many of them were too busy laughing at the slaver woman who had been attacked). Sandra gently laid Ziggy behind one of the broken buildings, placing a discarded pair of pants under his head as a pillow. She left him there, knowing she had to get back to work before the slavers would discipline her more. She'd go back to check on Ziggy later.

 _One day,_ Sandra thought. _Vulpes gave them one day, and then, he said he'd come back with his invasion force. I can't believe I'm relying on the Legion... but they're the only chance I have of getting out of here. Hurry up and attack this place already, Vulpes. Even if you kill me in the process... it's better than this..._

 _"Don't start thinking like that,"_ Charon told her. _"It's only been one day. You've got this. Keep moving. Keep moving, Sandra."_

Sandra took in a deep breath and forced herself to continue on.

Once the rubble was cleared, Sandra expected the slavers to give them a break, but they didn't. Apparently, they were expected to work all day with no breaks, no food, and no water. Just when Sandra was about to sneak away to check on Ziggy, a slaver pulled her to the side and began dragging her towards the whorehouse. Sandra's stomach sank; the back-breaking labor was awful, but she much preferred it over being turned into a prostitute.

 _"Fuckin' perverts..."_ Charon grumbled in the back of her head. _"If anyone tries anything, just play along. Then, when they let their guard down, bite their fuckin' dick off."_

"Okay..." Sandra snickered.

Tired, disoriented, aching all over, and slowly losing a grip on her sense of reality, Sandra laughed and giggled softly under her breath as the slaver dragged her along, mumbling madly to herself and chuckling at Charon's ill-mannered jokes. The slaver gave her a strange look, then shoved her into the lobby of the whorehouse.

"Go find Sally," the slaver barked. "Stupid little brat is having a breakdown. Billy said that she might listen to you. Go calm her down. That's your job right now."

"Aye, I'll be on me way, then," Sandra said in a random Irish accent, giving the slaver a salute and a wink. "Whatchu' be wanting from me next? Ya' want me to cook you a supper of Shepherd's Pie? Serve ya' a pint o' Guinness? Wouldn't mind a drink myself."

"Just get your crazy ass in there and calm the little bitch down," the slaver snarled. "Don't get fresh with me, bitch. I'll beat your ass into oblivion."

"Oh, baby, ya' know what I like," Sandra cackled. "Kinky is as kinky does..."

The slaver's face twisted into a look of irritated bewilderment. After a moment of staring, the slaver shook his head and marched off, muttering under his breath as he did. "Fucking psycho bitch..."

Sandra wandered aimlessly through the whorehouse, smiling at the pink fluorescent lighting that seemed to be everywhere, as well as the sexy posters along the walls and the heart-shaped designs drawn over the wallpaper with magic marker. Disgusting as this place was, it actually felt far more welcoming than anywhere else in Rubble Town.

 _"Where'd you learn to speak with an Irish accent?"_ Charon asked.

"Moriarty... remember...?" Sandra mumbled in response. "Moriarty was Irish. I liked his accent... before I fucking killed him... haaahaha..."

 _"Oh, right. I remember,"_ Charon replied. _"You pushed him off that balcony in Megaton."_

"Down goes the Irishman, falls to his death, way, hay, roll and go..." Sandra began to sing to herself. "The Irishman fell to his death on that bomb... timme rolickin' randy, dandy, oh... we're outward bound for the Mo-ja-ve, way, hay, roll and go... for soon we'll be fightin' our way out of here, timme rolickin randy, dandy, oh..."

 _"That's a good way to stay sane, I guess..."_ Charon sighed. _"When I was a slave, I kept sane by constantly plotting how I'd kill each and every slaver_ _around me when I had the chance.. but I guess screwing up the lyrics of Irish sea shanties works, too. Different strokes..."_

"Charon was crazy and now I am too, way, hay, roll and go... killing the bad guys and still pulling through, timme rolickin' randy, dandy, oh..."

Sandra soon approached a spacious room, and when she did, she went silent. The room contained a makeup desk, a beautiful rug, and a heart shaped bed. Two hookers were sitting on the edge of the bed with Sally, trying to comfort her and failing. Sally sat in between them, sobbing into her hands and sniffling into her sleeves.

"What happened...?" Sandra asked.

"We were trying to put makeup on her, and she kept crying," one of the hookers replied. "The makeup won't stay on. She won't tell us what's wrong."

 _"Probably might have something to do with the fact that she's being forced to pleasure dirty men against her will,"_ Charon grunted. _"That might be what's wrong with her. Ever think of that? Tch. Stupid hussies."_

"Um..." Sandra slowly approached them. One of the hookers moved, allowing Sandra to sit beside Sally.

"I d-don't... w-want... t-to..." Sally sputtered, clinging onto Sandra and burying her face in her chest. "I'm scared... I d-don't want to..."

"We all have to do it, hon," one of the hookers said. "You get used to it. It's really not that bad, sweetheart."

"Hey, sweety... if you want, we can go talk to Sport," the other hooker suggested.

"Wh-who's Sport?" Sally asked.

"Sport is the guy who keeps the business together in this place," the hooker informed. "He's our... manager. And he's our supplier."

"S-supplier?"

"Yeah. He helps us take the edge off. He can help you, too."

"No," Sandra said flatly. "You're not getting her hooked on chems. She doesn't need chems."

 _"Heh..."_ Charon chuckled in her subconscious. _"Pot, meet kettle."_

"Wh-what am I s'posed to do?" Sally asked fearfully, tears filling her eyes again. "I c-can't... I c-c-can't..."

"Sweety, nobody's even asking you to 'work' with them yet," the first hooker said. "They just want you to dance with us. That's all."

"D-dance?" Sally squeaked. "I d... don't..."

"Dancing isn't that bad," Sandra said. "You can make it fun."

"Fun...?"

"Yeah. Come on, stand up. Let's try it."

Sandra pulled Sally to her feet.

"Do a dance, you guys," Sandra said to the hookers. "Don't do a really provocative dance, though. Do a fun one. Do one that's... flashy. Fast, flashy, and stylish."

The hookers smiled at each other. They both took the same stance, and they began to twist, twirl, and kick almost in sync with each other. Sally giggled.

"Now... you just need music. But not sexy music. Something fun," Sandra said. "Okay, hang on, let me think of something..."

Sally stood between the two hookers, waiting expectantly.

Sandra thought for a moment, cleared her throat, and began to sing.

"What will we do with a drunken slaver, what will we do with a drunken slaver, what will we do with a drunken slaver early in the mor~ling. Way, hay, and up she rises, way, hay, and up she rises, way hay and up she rises early in the mor~ning."

 _"Oh lord..."_ Charon sniggered. _"You're making hookers dance to sea shanties. Only you could manage that."_

Sally observed the hookers, slowly trying to imitate their movements.

"Kick him in the nuts and break his no~ose, kick him in the nuts and break his no~ose, kick him in the nuts and break his no~ose early in the mor~ning," Sandra chanted, clapping with the rhythm. Sally and the hookers all laughed. "Throw him in the Quarry and wait for deathclaws, throw him in the Quarry and wait for deathclaws, throw him in the Quarry and wait for deathclaws early in the mor~ning! Way, hay, and up she rises, way, hay, and up she rises, way hay and up she rises early in the mor~ning! Slit his throat and toss him in the dumpster, slit his throat and toss him in the dumpster, slit his throat and toss him in the dumpster early in the mor~ning!"

Sally was dancing along with the hookers, giggling and wiping her tears away at the same time. Sandra continued to clap and sing her improvised lyrics.

"Way, hay, and up she rises, way, hay, and up she rises, way hay and up she rises early in the mor~ning! Cover him in pitch and light him on fire, cover him in pitch and light him on fire, cover him in pitch and light him on fire early in the mor~ning! Well that's what we do with a drunken slaver, that's what we do with a drunken slaver, that's what we do with a drunken slaver early in the mor~ning!"

The hookers were barely able to keep up with their own dance moves now, as both of them were in hysterics. Sally laughed along with them.

"See? It can be fun," Sandra said. "Now... whenever you're on stage, just think of that song. Play that song in your head and dance to it. Okay?"

"O-okay," Sally agreed.

"I have to go," Sandra told her, remembering that Ziggy was still lying unconscious behind a dumpster. "If you need me, just ask for me again, okay?"

Sandra wrapped Sally in a hug. Sally snapped her arms around her so tightly, Sandra thought her body might break in the little girl's embrace. They stayed this way for a few minutes. It felt like Sally simply didn't want to let go.

"Hey," Sandra whispered into Sally's ear. "You won't have to put up with this for much longer. M'kay?"

"What do you mean?" Sally asked.

Sandra smiled, placed her finger to her lips, and winked. She turned and left the room, leaving Sally feeling a thousand times better. Sally was almost eager to sit at the makeup desk, and she happily allowed the hookers to decorate her face in makeup.

On the way out of the whorehouse, Sandra grinned at the sunset. She didn't mind that her body was still screaming in pain, that her stomach was aching and growling hungrily, or even that the slave collar was beginning to dig into her collar bone. She hummed her made-up sea shanties as she walked towards the dumpster where she'd left Ziggy. Along the way, she passed by Dante, who was leading a group of slaves to their next task. Sandra's hand shot out, and she grabbed Dante by the arm, halting him in his step.

Dante shot her a questioning look.

"You said you were waiting for the right time," Sandra murmured. "Well... I think that time might come around sometime tomorrow. Be ready."

Dante gave her a subtle nod, and he walked off.

 _I hope Vulpes wasn't bluffing,_ Sandra thought. _If I know the Legion, then... this town is pretty much screwed. Even if the Garrisons return Vulpes' captured Legionaries, there's no way Vulpes would just let them go free. No. The Legion is gonna burn them as soon as they have what they want. That's how they operate._

Ziggy was snoozing behind the dumpster. He was covered in scrapes and bruises, but his raspy snore was a clear sign that he was alive and kicking.

"Hey," Sandra said softly, kneeling and giving him a gentle shake. "Ziggy. Ziggy, wake up."

Ziggy's eyes drifted open. Sandra expected him to jump up in an angry panic again, but he didn't. He simply laid there, growling out his hoarse exhalations and appearing positively exhausted.

"Ziggy, come on... it's okay," Sandra said, reading his troubled thoughts off his face. "Don't give up now. This isn't over yet."

Ziggy scowled, looking away and not moving.

"There you are," said a loud, familiar voice.

Sandra looked up. Pete was standing over them.

"Got a new job for you, butch," Pete said to Sandra. "And the zombie... I'm taking the zombie to feed the dogs."

"What?" Sandra replied. "You're gonna make Ziggy feed the dogs?"

"Oh, yeah, his corpse will feed the dogs for at least a week," Pete sneered nastily. "We got no use for a feral psycho here. If he's gonna be attacking us all the time, we might as well nip him in the bud right now. And you, butch... I actually have a job you might enjoy."

"You can't!" Sandra shot to her feet. "You can't kill Ziggy! It's only been one day! Give him a fucking chance-"

 _WHAM._

Pete's fist connected with Sandra's skull, making her spin and fall to the ground. She sat at Ziggy's feet, her vision completely screwed up, her head feeling like it might crumble apart.

Ziggy sat upright, glaring up at Pete and growling threateningly at him.

"Don't interrupt me, bitch," Pete ordered. "You have a new job. One of our guys... a well-paying customer... he's been getting rough with the merchandise lately. He's been beating up the girls in the whorehouse. He actually broke one of their legs. We can't have people abusing the merchandise. He needs to get knocked down a notch or two. I figured it might be funny to sick a crazy bitch on him... have a woman stomp his nuts in. Might give him a lesson in humility. You can kill him, or you can just beat him into a bloody pulp. We planned to drag him off the streets, take all his shit, give you a tire iron and let you go at it. Sound fun?"

"But Zig..." Sandra blubbered. "I mean..."

She paused for a moment. A thought occurred to her.

"You don't have anyone guarding the merchandise, do you?" Sandra asked.

Pete pondered on this. "No," he said. "I guess we don't. That might be a good job for you."

"No... not for me. For Ziggy," Sandra told him. "Ziggy's stronger than me. And... people are scared of him. If he's guarding the girls, nobody will fuck with them."

Pete stroked his chin with his fingers, seeming to think very hard about this.

"Come on... he's strong, he's crazy, he's protective... he's the perfect bodyguard," Sandra said.

"Yeah, and he's been trying to kill us ever since he got here," Pete replied. "He's gonna have to get his shit together if he doesn't wanna end up being dog food."

"He can do it," Sandra said confidently, patting Ziggy on the shoulder. "You wanna protect the girls from the bad guys, don't you, Zig?"

Ziggy stared at her. After a moment of thought, he gave her a thumbs-up.

"Alright... he can keep an eye on the girls," Pete decided. "But _you're_ gonna have to keep an eye on _him._ If he slips up, I'm shocking the shit out of both of you. He's your responsibility."

Sandra nodded.

"Come on, zombie," Pete said. "Let's go. I'll show you what to do. No slip-ups. No crazy bullshit. You too, butch. You're both gonna guard the merchandise from now on. I have a feeling the zombie won't take direct orders from anyone but you. You're gonna have to keep the same job as him so you can keep him in line."

Sandra and Ziggy followed Pete back to the whorehouse.

 _"Got promoted on your first day,"_ Charon said. _"Good for you. Now you're a slave bouncer. Oh, man, this is all starting to look way too familiar..."_

Sandra waited in the main room of the whorehouse while Pete took Ziggy outside to show him the ropes. For a while, Sandra had nothing to do except watch the hookers dance on the stage for the slavers. She was surprised to see that Sally was in the center of the stage, and she seemed to be the main attraction. Sally was twirling around the pole, marching down the catwalk, and performing the flashy dance that she had practiced earlier. She looked completely different than before; her hair was flowing brushed and beautiful over her shoulders, her body was fitted with a sparkling red skirt and a crop top of the same design, and she had a furry red scarf draped around her neck. It didn't look at all like a sexy show; it looked like a child performing in a talent show, and having a blast doing it. When Pete returned with Ziggy, Ziggy was covered in blood, carrying a tire iron and wearing a wicked smile of deep satisfaction.

When Pete returned with Ziggy, Ziggy was covered in blood, carrying a tire iron and wearing a wicked smile of deep satisfaction.

"You know what to do," Pete said, placing a handful of caps in Sandra's hand. "Keep an eye on the girls. If any of the guys take them to the back rooms, go to the back hallway and listen for any trouble. Until then, just... chill out here, and make sure your zombie doesn't kill anyone else. The place closes up around midnight. You'll come back here around ten in the morning. It closes late and opens late. When the place closes up, you can go back to your holding cell and sleep."

"What're the caps for?" Sandra asked.

Pete pointed to the bar. The bartender was serving drinks and hot meals. Sandra beamed.

"Thanks," she said to Pete.

"Shut the fuck up," Pete snapped, shoving Sandra towards the bar and marching off.

Sandra dragged Ziggy over to the bar. They sat at the counter, and Sandra quickly became mesmerized by their selection of stews and liquors.

"Evening, my name's Sport, I'll be your unwitting supplier of indulgences tonight," the man behind the counter said. "What'll it be?"

"Two bowls of molerat stew, two nukacolas, and please, for the love of God, give me a hit of med-x," Sandra replied, slamming her caps on the counter. "I know you've got the good stuff back there. Hook me up."

"Uh... you don't have enough here for all that," Sport replied. "I can get you the food and the sodas. My special supply of chems cost a little more."

Sandra felt her stomach shrivel up. She was certain that part of the reason she felt so awful was because she was forced to quit her chem habits cold turkey. She needed a fix, and she _definitely_ needed some relief from the burning slash wound in her arm, the black bruises all over her face, and the splitting migraine in her head.

"For God's sake." Sandra stood on her stool, leaned over the counter, grabbed Sport by the collar, and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on him.

She sat back down, smirking at the shocked expression on Sport's face.

"Is that enough for a hit?" Sandra asked. "It better be, because I'm not going any further than that."

"Are you sure? I could set you up for life if you gimme a little more," Sport said, cracking a smile. "Alright, babe... I'll give you a freebie. Just this once."

"I wouldn't call it a freebie," Sandra said, wiping her mouth. "You taste like cigarettes and fish."

"Yeah, you don't wanna know where that fishy taste came from," Sport laughed.

Sandra began scrubbing her mouth furiously. Sport roared with laughter.

When their food was served, Ziggy lifted the bowl and drank it all in a few large gulps. Sandra didn't. She was sure to savor her stew, and right now, she was sure that she'd never tasted anything more delicious in her life. Sport slipped a syringe of med-x to her, and she was quick to press the needle into her arm, letting out a long, relieved sigh. It was about damn time she caught a break in this place.

"Keep a close eye on her," Sandra told Ziggy, pointing to Sally on the stage. "We have to look after all the girls, but especially her. She's just a little kid. She really needs some protection in this place. Okay?"

Ziggy responded with a thumbs-up.

As the night carried on and as the drugs hit her system, Sandra smiled, singing under her breath as she watched Sally dance.

"What will you do with a drunken slaver, what will you do with a drunken slaver... what will you do with a drunken slaver, early in the mor~ning..."

After a while, the slavers began to leave the bar in groups. Sandra decided to help Sport collect their abandoned dishes and beer bottles from the tables - but only so she could finish off their drinks for them. Sandra collected beers and martini glasses, swiftly drinking each one of them until the room began to spin. Ziggy tried to drink one of the beers, but he hadn't expected it to taste as foul as it did; he spat it out, spewing beer out of his mouth and staining Sandra's pant leg. Sandra fell to the ground, almost suffocating under her own laughter.

When everyone was gone, Sally darted up to Sandra and encased her with another spine-snapping hug.

"I did it!" Sally exclaimed. "It wasn't bad at all! It was so much fun! I wanna dance forever!"

 _"Yeah, you're not gonna think it's fun when some pedophile comes in here and drags you off to one of those back rooms,"_ Charon grumbled bitterly, but Sandra ignored him.

"The girls said that I'm allowed to sleep here from now on!" Sally rejoyced. "I get my own bed!"

 _"Yeah. Your own bed. You know what those beds are for, right?"_ Charon snarked. _"Those hooker beds are there for you to do the sideways mambo."_

"Shut up," Sandra told Charon.

Sally tilted her head. "Who are you talking to?"

Sandra trapped her in another hug.

"Find me when it happens," she whispered very softly, careful not to let Sport overhear.

Sally separated from her, giving her an odd look.

"Goodnight, kiddo," Sandra said, leading Ziggy out of the whorehouse.

Sandra and Ziggy returned to their holding cell, seeing that Dante was already there, sleeping soundly on his makeshift bed (his legs stretched over the edge of the mattress, as the bed wasn't big enough for his body). Sandra spotted a scarf, a bobby pin, and an empty nukacola bottle on the edge of the desk when she marched inside. When Billy stood up from the desk, Sandra slipped the bobby pin into her pocket. Billy unlocked the cell and allowed them to go inside, closing and relocking it behind them.

A fresh plate of strange meat had been left in the cell, and Ziggy began inhaling it at once. Sandra and Dante didn't have any interest in eating the nasty raw meat, but Ziggy seemed to love it. While Ziggy enjoyed his supper, Sandra slumped onto her bed, watching the ceiling move and wondering if she'd have the strength to wake up in the morning. The more tired she became, the more the ceiling seemed to spin and distort... it reminded her of the moment she awoke from her brief coma in Doc Mitchell's house, seeing the fan spinning above her head...

The deeper she fell into her disorientation, the less comprehensible her song became as the lyrics floated out of her mouth.

"Throw 'em to the Legion and watch 'em burn... throw 'em to the Legion and watch 'em burn... throw 'em to the Legion and watch 'em burn, early in the mor~ning..."


	22. The Rubble Town Revolution

_BANG._

Sandra was having a fanciful, lucid dream about trekking the Capitol Wasteland. When the sound of the explosion interrupted her dream, she thought that a horde of supermutants were throwing grenades at Charon again, until another explosion occurred, jolting her out of her drug induced slumber and making her jolt awake in her cell.

Dante and Ziggy sat bolt upright as well. There seemed to be a lot of commotion going on outside, and from the windows, Sandra could see that the sun had barely started to rise. Dawn had just started to peak over the horizon.

 _Sounds like an attack,_ Sandra thought. _But... explosions? The Legion don't usually use explosives, do they...?_

"Now we are ready to head for our home... way, hay, roll and go..." Sandra moaned tiredly, rubbing her eyes.

Billy, who had fallen asleep on his desk, jumped up and hurried out the door, drawing his pistol and hollering curse words at whoever was outside.

"Now's our chance," Dante whispered. "Anyone have anything small? Scissors? A pen?"

"I have this," Sandra offered him the bobby pin. "Don't break it. It's the only one I have, and I wanted to try picking the cell with it."

"You're gonna have to do this," Dante told her. "I went through this in training. We learned how to disarm these collars. But you can't really disarm it if you're wearing it. You're gonna have to do it for me. I'll walk you through it."

"Okay, I... wait... no," Sandra said. "No, I'm doing Ziggy's first."

"What? Why?"

"Because you'll probably just leave him here if I don't get his collar off first."

"And? He's a feral beast. He'll slow us down."

"No, he'll speed us up. He'll take down the slavers and clear you a path. Besides that... I'm not leaving him here."

"You're wasting our time. We need to get on with it."

"Alright," Sandra said, standing on her knees and readying herself to disarm Ziggy's collar. "Then talk fast."

Dante grumbled out an annoyed sigh. "Fine. Take the pin... gently nudge it into the little circular slot. You'll hit an emergency switch, and it should reset the collar. That way it won't go off while you're opening it."

Sandra did as Dante instructed, slowly pressing the pin into the collar.

"Now... use the pin to pry open the rectangular port on the left side. It shouldn't be hard to get off. After that, you'll see three wires. Do _not_ touch the yellow one or the red one. You'll need to sever the blue one somehow. After that, you can undo the mechanism without any failsafe triggering, and you can pull it right off."

Sandra cautiously followed every instruction. After digging her nails into the blue wire, she was able to wear it down, and she snapped it in half. She pulled Ziggy's collar off, then went to work on Dante's. After a few minutes, Sandra succeeded in disarming it. Dante pulled it off and tossed it aside. Dante was about to disarm Sandra's collar, but Sandra shot to her feet and began fiddling with the lock on the door.

"What're you doing? Let me get that collar off you," Dante said.

"We need this cell open," Sandra replied. "One of you can grab my shotgun from that desk. That way, if the slavers come back before we're done and they see what we're doing... you can kill them before they activate those collars. Your collars might be off, but they still have the upper hand. They're armed. We're not. Aha!"

The lock clicked, and Sandra pushed the cell door open, grabbing her shotgun and tossing it to Dante. She grabbed a nearby combat knife and placed it in Ziggy's hands.

"Go out and find Sally," Sandra instructed. "Bring her to us. Don't fight anyone unless you have to. Okay?"

Ziggy frowned at her. He gave her a conflicted look, pointing at her throat.

"I'll be fine," Sandra said. "Go!"

After a moment of hesitation, Ziggy ran out the door.

"Here," Dante said. "Let me do your collar."

Sandra stood still and waited for Dante to disarm her collar. They stood in silence for a minute or so. Right when Dante located the blue wire, someone busted into the building, a twisted, furious look on his face and a rifle held high in his arms.

"Oh, _hell_ no!" Pete screamed, raising his gun.

 _BANG, BANG._

Sandra ducked, and in a flash, Dante retrieved her shotgun again and blew two holes in Pete's chest. Pete hit his head on the desk when he collapsed onto the floor.

Two more slavers burst in, and Dante charged at them, firing shots and narrowly dodging their swings of knives and bats.

More slavers approached. Dante was forced to abandon his task of disarming Sandra's collar and fight them off. Sandra fled the building, darting into the town and trying her damnedest to avoid anyone's crossfire. Her slave collar was still stuck to her neck, active and ready to blow. She had no idea where she was going, or how she was going to get the thing off.

The town was under siege; the red tribe approached from the east, trading firepower with the slavers and setting fire to every building they passed. Near the town's gate, a fleet of twenty-or-so securitrons were rolling into town, shredding through their opposition with machine guns and destroying their further targets with their missile power.

"Sir!" Orion shouted, darting up to Vulpes, who was leading the Legion side of the invasion. "What of the enemy slaves? Do we dispose of them as well?"

"No," Vulpes said dismissively. "There's no need for that. It's a waste of ammunition and energy to kill the helpless. Set the slaves free. They seem to be armed with more primitive slave collars than ours. Easy enough to disarm."

"Sir? You don't want to recapture them? Make them our slaves?"

"You heard me. Set them free. Be off."

"Ah... yes. Yes, My Lord."

Vulpes watched as Orion ran off. He didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but he valued slaves less and less as the recent days passed. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to rely on his slave workforce much anymore. In fact, he thought of slowly removing the need for them entirely, and maybe one day, the Legion could function without them.

 _You can reform the Legion. You can make them better._

"Tch," Vulpes scoffed as he led his men onward.

As the Legion pressed forward, the Courier Army did much the same on the opposite side of the battle field.

While Vulpes was fitted with his headdress and a double-layered version of his Legion armor, Arcade had dressed himself with two fingerless gloves with leather grips - to better equip his gun - and under his Follower's coat was a bulletproof vest. He marched with Raul and Niner on each side, all of them strapped with belts and leg bags of ammunition and grenades. They didn't know that Boone had followed them on their journey, that the sniper had positioned himself on the mountainside furthest north, and right now, they wouldn't have cared.

"Yes Man, take half the securitrons up the hill," Arcade ordered. "Victor - you stay with me. The rest of us will take the heart of the town."

"Aye aye, Dr. Gannon!"

"You got it, partner."

"I don't know how long this can last," Raul said between gunshots. "I've reloaded three times already. The slavers are dwindling down, but... so is my bullet stash."

"We'll be fine," Arcade replied. "I haven't even started yet."

Arcade pulled his LAER from his back. "Ad victorium."

Raul withdrew long enough to scrounge another handful of six bullets. When he began reloading, another ghoul flew from the hill to his right, whizzing over Raul's head and rolling onto the dirt. Ziggy had just slashed the throat of the slaver, and now he was on the run from their return fire.

Raul waited, and seconds later, the slavers appeared on the hill after Ziggy. At once, Raul took aim, and he dropped each of them like dominoes.

Girls were flooding from the whorehouse, most of them still fitted with their slave collars. Sally stumbled onto te ground in front of Ziggy. Ziggy grabbed her and looked around, not knowing where to go next.

Arcade assisted the securitrons in their assault, the blue laser power of the LAER helping to light the explosions ablaze. The slavers began to falter; the explosions doubled with the gunfire and the random bursts of combustion were wearing them thin. Just as planned...

"Alright," Raul said, motioning for Ziggy and Sally to follow. "You two, stay behind us. We got this. Uh... Gannon? Can you get this collar off?"

Arcade spun around, seeing that Raul was pointing to Sally's collar. Arcade left the battle and went to work disarming Sally's collar, and minutes later, he removed it from her.

Sally let a broad smile take over her face, exhaling a wonderfully relieved breath.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Raul asked.

Arcade didn't answer.

They both returned to battle after ordering Sally to stay behind them. Ziggy darted off to rejoin the fight, claiming a fire axe that someone had abandoned and hacking away at his opponents. Dante was protecting the women from the whorehouse, and Ziggy tried to help him. Dante took a lot of hits; when his torso was pouring blood from seven different bullet wounds, he finally hit the ground. Ziggy became enraged.

Boone watched everything unfold through his scope. He observed Arcade and Raul as they led the invasion, and once the Legion came into his sights, he moved his aim, his eye scanning over each and every Legionary in eyeshot. He'd find that Legion fox, and he'd take the son of a bitch down for good. Of all the Legionaries, Vulpes Inculta was one of the worst, and Boone almost wished that he had died instead of Caesar. Caesar sat in his tent and ordered his men to do atrocious things, but Vulpes was the man who actually carried out the deeds, and he enjoyed it, to beat it all. He was the worst kind of person in the world, and he was the very reason that Boone joined the NCR in the first place. To eliminate savages like him from the face of the earth.

He didn't find Vulpes immediately after shifting his perception. His scope grazed over Sandra, who was wandering along the hill off to Arcade's right. Arcade couldn't see her from where he was, but from the looks of it, Sandra would be getting some unwanted company soon...

"BITCH!" Billy screamed, bolting after Sandra. "STAY THE FUCK PUT! YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!"

Billy held up his remote and jammed his finger on the button. Sandra's collar activated; a burst of blue electricity consumed her body from her neck, nearly paralyzing her in her step and causing a searing pain to shoot all throughout her.

Sandra fought to keep on, to force her legs to move, to get away however she could, but it was no use. What little strength she had was completely drained from her, and her skin felt like it was on fire. Billy held his finger down on the remote, making the shock last for a full minute. Then, he began to press the button rapidly, making a series of terrible jolts and zapping Sandra over and over again. Charon was saying something in the back of her mind, but she couldn't hear him, couldn't see the sunrise, couldn't move... everything began to blur... her senses faded... this was it... it was over...

Someone marched towards her, barely visible to her. He appeared as a walking shadow, shifting in and out of sight.

"Char..." Sandra croaked desperately, her eyes watering, her body shouting in agony. "Charo... n... Arc... ade..."

Then, her body finally gave out. Just as she began to fall, someone grabbed her, holding her with one arm and laying her on his chest, her face resting against his neck. Everything went dark, and Sandra fell unconscious, hanging limply from the grasp of the man who had caught her.

Boone followed the actions with his scope, surprised to see that Sandra had a new ally on the scene with her, but it wasn't a member of the Courier Army.

Vulpes glimpsed down at her, his face void of feeling, his ripper hanging from his other hand.

"HEY! YOU DOG-HEADED FUCK! THAT'S MY PROPERTY! PUT IT DOWN!" Billy hollered, charging at Vulpes.

Vulpes grinned nastily. "Come and get her."

Billy lunged at Vulpes, pulling a knife from his side and making a stabbing motion - but Vulpes' weapon had greater reach. He thrust the ripper into Billy's stomach, the blades tearing at his flesh and organs, clinging against the metal parts of his armor. Billy screamed and gagged. Vulpes pushed it deeper into him until he was able to feel the ripper's teeth scraping against his ribcage. Then, he kicked Billy in the stomach, making his body hit the ground at his feet, spouting blood and convulsing as the life left his eyes.

Boone lined up his crosshairs, ready to eliminate Vulpes, but he hesitated. Vulpes just killed a slaver, a slaver that was going after Sandra. Why...?

Vulpes' face darkened, looking as unreadable as ever. He slowly laid Sandra on the ground, and Boone watched from afar as the fox tinkered with her slave collar.

"Primitive junk," Vulpes muttered, slipping the collar off her and tossing it down the hillside.

Boone's finger caressed the trigger, but still, he didn't take the shot.

Vulpes remained hunched over Sandra for a moment. He then stood and marched away, muttering under his breath as he did.

"Now we're even," he grumbled.

Boone watched Vulpes leave the scene, a sick knot forming in his stomach. He barely had the nerve to spare the fox's life, and he didn't know why he did it. Because he saved Sandra? That must've been it. But why? Why would he go out of his way to rescue her? Did they have some kind of preexisting friendship, or perhaps more? Were the two of them in cahoots with each other? Had she been conspiring with the Legion this entire time?

"Shit..." Boone swore. "She's got some explaining to do."

Arcade spotted something rolling down the hill beside him, a discarded slave collar. He peered up the hillside, then broke away from his invasion force and began scaling the hill. Niner followed him. The two of them found Sandra lying battered and unconscious in the dirt. Niner kept his eyes up, looking in every direction for any possible threats, while Arcade hit his knees beside Sandra, scanning her up and down and trying to determine what state she was in.

"Oh..." he breathed. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I didn't know you were here, I..."

Arcade scooped Sandra into his arms after putting his LAER away. It pained him enough to see slaves and refugees flocking to the Old Mormon Fort on a regular basis, some with broken bones, some with lacerations, and some beyond saving... but this was his friend, someone he was supposed to look after. How did she end up trapped in a slaver encampment? How did this happen on his watch? He was supposed to be the smart one, the one always vigilant, the one always on the lookout for the next threat. He shouldn't have let this happen. He should have known about it. He should have _prevented_ it.

"You shouldn't have run off," he mumbled sadly. "And I... shouldn't have let you. You're gonna be fine now. You're gonna be okay..."

Sandra twitched, seeming to come to, but she didn't have the strength to get up just yet. Arcade frowned as he watched the tears roll down her bruised face. She felt warm, comfortable, even. Lying in Arcade's arms... it was a hell of an improvement compared to lying on that nasty old bed in her cell. She could die here, in his grasp, finally safe from the Garrisons and their slavers... and it'd be the most comfortable death she could wish for.

"Stay awake," Arcade urged, holding her closer and giving her a gentle shake. "I'll fix you up when we get out of here. Come on, stay awake, I've got you..."

"She okay?" Niner asked.

"She will be," Arcade replied. "We have to get out of here. I gave the securitrons an order for a final execution. We, uh... we need to clear the area before they do it."

"Before they do what?"

"You'll see. Let's go. Come on..."

Arcade and Niner took Sandra back the way they came, towards the west entrance. Raul soon joined up with them, followed by Ziggy and Sally, and they made their escape. The securitrons were dominating the town now, and the Legion had run out of enemies to kill.

"Hah!" Orion laughed, wiping a streak of blood from his face and approaching Vulpes. "They hardly even know how to fight! What shall we do now, My Lord? Shall we leave the town in ruins like Kingsport? Shall we burn every last building in sight?"

Vulpes surveyed the environment. The securitrons seemed to be positioning themselves in front of the buildings, all single file, their faces turning red and their missiles preparing to fire.

"No need," Vulpes said. "I believe the bots are going to take care of that for us. Order a retreat, Orion. We're done here."

Orion obeyed his orders, and the Legionaries began to pull back. Vulpes meandered off towards the east road, ready to leave the town. His Legionaries were far off behind him, still regrouping and finding each other before deciding to leave the town for good. He'd have to wait for them.

As the Courier Army headed for the hills and as Vulpes waited patiently by the town's exit, the securitrons made their final move.

 **"Protocol Ad Meloria, initiate!"** Yes Man instructed in a distorted, robotic voice.

Every securitron launched their missiles, and the fireworks were incredible. Each building suffered explosive damage, and all of them began to crumble apart and demolish, one by one. Rubble Town was being reduced to nothingness, making its name all the more fitting, in Vulpes' opinion.

"Hurry up, you blithering idiots..." Vulpes mumbled. "Unless you want to be crushed to death by debris."

The Legionaries were locating some of their captured soldiers, and some of them started towards the exit. Vulpes continued to wait patiently outside of the town.

Then, despite the town falling to pieces before his eyes, something told him to turn around. He felt a shudder slither down his spine, and he turned, observing the dirt road that led away from the slaver encampment. Moments ago, the road was empty, but now, there was a small group of strangers standing about half a football field away, all of them eyeing Vulpes.

Vulpes squinted at them. They weren't slaves, nor Legionaries, and they didn't have the proper weaponry or attire to belong to the Garrison gang. These people were all wearing the same getup; dark suits, pre-war hats, and shiny black shoes. Each of them carried a silenced pistol.

 _Assassins._

At once, Vulpes realized how vulnerable he was, standing outside of the town without any firearms or Legionnaire backups.

"Legionaries!" he called out. "We have a problem!"

* * *

Sandra didn't awaken until noon.

Arcade and Raul kindly offered to take Ziggy and Sally with them after the two of them had rushed over to see Sandra. Ziggy's mouth fell open as he stood before Arcade, who was carrying the unconscious Sandra in his arms. Sally was worried too, but she patted Ziggy on the back in an attempt to comfort him. The securitrons would return to Vegas once they were done in Rubble Town. The Courier Army didn't need to escort them back. So, they hitched a ride with a caravan. Arcade paid the caravaneers a lump sum of caps in exchange for a free ride to Freeside. When they reached the strip, they entered the Lucky 38 and rode the elevator up to the suite. Arcade laid Sandra in her bed, then went to work treating her wounds. Sally and Ziggy were dumbfounded by the Lucky 38. They took turns ogling everything in the suite, while Niner and Raul hovered over Arcade's shoulder, examining Sandra. Niner suggested that they go make everyone some lunch (sensing that Arcade wanted to be left alone to his task, as he wasn't answering any of their questions or looking either of them in the eyes), and they both headed off for the kitchen. Around noon, Sandra finally stirred awake. She couldn't believe that she was laying in the comfort of the 38's master suite, that Arcade was beside her, that she was finally home at last...

"F... uck..." Sandra exhaled. "I was... kinda hoping I finally died this time... this near-death shit is getting really old... heh..."

"That's not funny," Arcade replied tonelessly, dabbing Sandra's wrist with disinfectant. Her wrist was bleeding. Sandra didn't even remember being cut. She must've been too distracted by the nasty shock of that collar...

Sandra's head slumped to the side. She watched him. He had a particularly grave look on his face.

"What's wrong...?" she asked tiredly.

"What do you think?" Arcade said. "Everything. Everything is wrong."

"What...?"

"Everything. I mean... you leave for one day. One day, and this is what happens. You should know better than running off on your own by now. You said those scientists in the Big Empty cut you open, didn't you? You had a collar like that on when you were trapped in the Madre, didn't you? Do you have any idea how many close calls you've had? You know how many times you were an inch away from death? And it always happens when you run off by yourself. You know that?" Arcade rambled. "And this time... if we didn't show up when we did... you _would_ have died. There wouldn't have been some last-minute miracle. There wouldn't have been an escape plan. There would have been a dead courier lying in a slaver's dumpster because she thought she could take on an entire town full of slavers by herself."

Sandra looked away. There was no way to reply to this. He was right, and she knew it. Still, she couldn't help but eagerly await whatever witty response Charon had in store for Arcade. Her eyes moved around the room, but she didn't see the illusion of Charon anywhere. She couldn't hear his voice, either. The only person in the room was Arcade, and his was the only voice she could hear now.

 _What... where did Charon go? Why is he gone now?_

"It's hard to look after you when..." Arcade stopped, sighed, and met her eyes. "Look. I can't help you if you don't care about yourself. I can't protect you when you act like you have a death wish. I can't do anything for you if you don't stop with this recklessness."

Sandra's gaze fell on him, and suddenly, she became swept away with his compassionate emerald stare.

Now she understood.

Arcade cared about her, she could tell that much. He looks after her, protects her, gives her excellent advice in battles and fixes her up when she gets injured. Charon didn't need to linger in Sandra's subconscious anymore. Not as long as Arcade was here, doing everything for her that Charon once did in the Capitol Wasteland. In fact, now that she thought about it, Sandra almost never heard the voices of Charon and her other friends anymore, especially not after recruiting Arcade into her group of misfits. Strange, how Arcade's presence seemed to dampen the voices in her head...

"Heh..." Sandra revealed a weird smile. "You... you're just awesome... y'know that...?"

Arcade gave her an odd face. "Thank you...?"

Sandra chuckled.

"Are you... listening to anything I'm saying?" Arcade asked her. "This is important. I just... I don't like seeing you like this. You said you wanted to help Freeside. Help the Mojave. You care about that... the bigger picture... your friends... but not yourself. Why?"

"Because..." Sandra thought on this for a moment. "I guess... because... I don't need to. I can look after everything else... and I have people like you to look after me..."

Arcade attempted a smile. "Yeah, well... it doesn't work that way if you leave us all behind."

"M'sorry..." Sandra yawned. "I don't know... I just felt like I was using you guys too much."

"Why?"

"Because... I always end up making other people fight my battles for me... that's what always happens... and then... bad stuff happens to them."

"Well, bad stuff is gonna happen to _you_ if you decide to cut everyone else out. This isn't the kind of world where people can survive long on their own. You know that better than anyone, after what happened with you and Benny."

"I know..."

"How about this," Arcade said, placing his hand over hers. "How about we all just... use each other. That's what friends do. Nobody can get through life completely on their own. So, we'll stick together, continue to 'use' each other, and we'll be fine. Contrary to what you think, you're not stringing us all along like marionettes. You're not ordering us into battle. You'd give sacrifice for us, just like we would for you. That's just the way it works. And that's okay. Alright?"

Sandra nodded.

Scar crawled onto the bed and nuzzled into Sandra's neck. Sandra was delighted to see the little deathclaw again.

"Named him Scar," Arcade said. "Hope you don't mind."

"Good name," Sandra replied, stroking under Scar's chin.

She winced. It hurt to move, even the slightest bit.

"Damn..." Sandra uttered. "Can I have some med-x?"

"No," Arcade told her. "You're an addict, and now you're bedridden. This might be my only chance to break you of the stuff."

"I'm not bedridden. I can get up."

Sandra ignored the pain and forced herself to sit upright. Arcade planted his hand on her collarbone, halting her.

"Stay," he urged, giving her an intense look. "Please."

Sandra stared at him. She almost pushed his hand away, called for Niner, and asked for a hit, but she didn't. Sooner or later, she would have to stop taking the chems. She knew that. And now... after everything Arcade had done for her... she owed it to him. Now seemed like the right time. Better sooner than later.

"Okay," she said.

There was a pause.

Sandra felt a surge of gratitude towards the doctor. Even before they knew each other well, he helped her. He'd given her and Niner a place to sleep, watched over her after a drunken night at the Wrangler, and now, here he was, tending to her simply because he wanted to. She'd forgotten that people like this existed. They were far too rare in the wasteland. Perhaps Charon had forgotten it, too. Sandra had reminded Charon that compassion still existed in the world, and now, Arcade was doing for her what Sandra had done for Charon. Arcade was the perfect example of humanity. Charon wasn't her conscience or her moral compass. Arcade was. If she wanted to fix Vegas at all, she'd need to keep him by her side. She was certain of it.

Maybe she _had_ fashioned him into a weapon, but it wasn't a weapon of war. It was a weapon meant to defend, to protect, and to press on towards the greater good. That couldn't be a bad thing, no matter what Zimmer had said.

 _knock, knock._

"Six?" Niner said, stepping into the room. "Y'okay?"

"Yeah, never better," Sandra quipped.

"The... them slavers..." Niner scratched the back of his head. "They didn't... they didn't _do_ anything to ya'... did they?"

"Nah, they thought I was hideous," Sandra laughed. "They had a house full of hookers keeping them occupied."

Ziggy and Sally poked their heads into the room. Sandra was overjoyed to see them; Sally wrapped her arms around Sandra's neck, and Ziggy did the same. Sandra didn't even care that hugging hurt like holy hell. She embraced both of them and held them as closely as she could.

"I'm gonna have to find a job for you two," Sandra said. "You guys can start new lives now."

"I can't believe it! I can't believe we got out of there!" Sally exclaimed. "You're amazing! Your friends... this place... it's all _amazing!"_

"Yeah... well... do you like singing?" Sandra asked her. "You seemed pretty happy when you were on stage."

Sally blinked. "Y-yeah. Why?"

"Because... I know a guy at the Tops who's looking for new entertainment for his guests," Sandra told her. "You have a killer voice. People would love to hear you sing."

"Really?!" Sally breathed, sounding astonished.

"Yup. You'd be a star," Sandra said. "And you, Ziggy... you could be her bodyguard."

Ziggy smiled and made a thumbs-up.

"You better pay him well," Sandra told Sally, pointing to Ziggy. "Once you get famous, you better make sure Ziggy's taken care of. We won't always be in Vegas, so... you'll need someone looking after you here."

"Er... I don't mean to burst your bubble, boss, but she's just a kid," Raul said. "I mean... without any references or experience... they might not hire her."

"They will," Sandra assured. "Once they hear her sing, they will. And if they don't... I'll invest in her. We've still got Bradley's stash. I can make it happen."

"Thank you!" Sally snapped her arms around Sandra again, rocking back and forth and jerking her around a bit too much. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Everyone laughed. Arcade gently separated Sally from Sandra.

Boone entered the suite just in time to hear everyone's laughter. Hearing everyone so happy made him even angrier.

"Hey, grumpy!" Sandra called out, waving to Boone. "Where have you been?"

Boone shot her a pensive glare.

Everyone went quiet.

"What?" Sandra said.

"Good question," Boone grumbled, tossing his rifle onto her desk. "What's up with you?"

"Um... I got kidnapped..." Sandra muttered. "And..."

"Yeah, I know that part," Boone replied. "What's up with you and that Legion dog?"

Sandra went quiet. She had no clue what he was talking about. Nobody else knew, either.

"I was there," Boone told everyone. "I saw what happened. Vulpes Inculta was there. He saved your ass, got that collar off you... and I don't get it. I don't see why a ruthless, evil, sick son of a bitch like him would help anyone... unless they were an ally of his. So... you got something you wanna tell us?"

"No," Sandra answered honestly. "I don't remember seeing him, I just..."

"You were unconscious when it happened," Boone said. "But he wouldn't have helped you unless he had something to gain from it. So, what is it? Are you working with him? Planning something? I think we'd all like to know."

Sandra gulped. _I'll work on Vegas, and you work on the Legion. We can fix them together._

Technically, she _had_ plotted something with Vulpes, but she didn't imagine that Vulpes would go along with it. Maybe he was simply returning the favor to her after she saved his life in Quarry Junction. How was she supposed to know what his motives were?

"He probably saved her because she's in a unique position to keep the Legion safe from attack," Arcade said at Sandra's defense. "He's a frumentarius. He's cunning. He'd think of the war to come as a game of chess, and he's making moves to better help him later down the road. He might think Sandra's sentimentality would keep her from sending the securitrons after the Legion - no offense, Sandra - but that's what makes sense. Saving her now would, in his eyes, keep her from retaliating against him in the future. That's probably all it is, Boone."

Sandra sighed. _Yeah, he's probably right. Vulpes wouldn't really be planning to go along with my plans... would he...?_

"If that was the case, then he would've wanted her to _know_ he saved her, right?" Boone replied. "He would've woken her up. He would've made sure that she knew what he did for her. If he was really playing mind games like that, he wouldn't have just saved her and left her there unconscious, now would he? It wouldn't do him any good."

"What's your problem?" Sandra snarled defensively. "You've been with me since Caesar died. You know I haven't been sneaking off to meet with the Legion."

"Yeah, and I also know that you spared Vulpes' sorry ass when you were in the Quarry," Boone retorted. "You let him live. Dragged him to the road and left him there with a nice little canteen of water. Isn't that sweet. What's next? Are we gonna bake them some cookies?"

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me for being humane!" Sandra snapped back. "I gave him a second chance, yeah, big deal. Unlike you, I'm not in favor of executing people or throwing them in jail at the drop of a hat. Why don't you run back to the Fuck-The-People Republic if you have such a big fucking problem with the way I do things?"

Boone stared at her.

Sally and Ziggy frowned, both of them looking uncomfortable. Raul and Niner pocketed their hands, glimpsing around and not knowing what to say. Arcade paid full attention, waiting until he needed to intervene again.

"Yeah," Boone said. "You know what? Maybe I will. It's not like I can let a stupid little kid like you get any power in Vegas. That'd be a disaster. Someone has to stop you."

"Better soldiers than you have tried," Sandra sneered, thinking of the many Enclave soldiers who died by her hand and grinning wickedly. "Go ahead and try. You'll end up a pile of body parts in a mass grave, just like the rest of them. Get the fuck out of my suite."

"Wait a minute, now..." Arcade said. "You two... you don't have to do this."

"I do," Boone groused, snatching up his rifle again. "You will too if you ever grow any sense. You really think her making a power grab is better than the NCR giving the Mojave some semblance of order?"

"Yes," Arcade said without hesitation. "I do. The NCR is stable, yes, but it's also unforgiving. They don't give humane treatment to their prisoners, and they're perfectly fine with forcing the Freesiders to starve to death and hoarding all the food for themselves. Not to mention, the NCR don't exactly prioritize the citizens of the Mojave, otherwise they'd be doing something about the slavers running amok. If not for us, the Garrisons would still be nabbing people off the streets. The NCR is trying to starve out our population, and they're constantly throwing people in prison for petty crimes and forcing them to do their manual labor. So, yes, I think we can do better than that. Vegas has been functioning just fine all by itself without the NCR's involvement until now. The only difference is, we're gonna be taking Mr. House's job, and we're going to do it better than him."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Boone growled.

Sandra grabbed a big science book from her nightstand and hurtled it at Boone. It pelted him in the shin.

"Get the fuck out already, asshole!" she screamed.

Boone marched out, collected his backpack from the other room, stepped into the elevator, and left the Lucky 38.

"Geez... what a bitch," Sandra griped.

Everyone was silent for a moment.

"Well... that was cheerful," Arcade said.

"Damn, man..." Niner was staring at the elevator door. "I thought he was cool. He reminded me of Mike. Loyal NCR, he was. I guess that's always a problem, no matter who it is..."

Sandra scowled. Maybe she hadn't been paying enough attention to Boone, and she simply didn't notice where his loyalties really were. Maybe it was better for everyone if he wasn't around. It didn't seem like he really wanted to be here, in any case. Sandra suspected that he only stuck around because he was proud to be traveling with the group who had helped him orchestraite Caesar's assassination. If not for that, he'd still be back in Novac...

"I think we all need a good rest. No more planning or politics today," Arcade said. "We destroyed an entire faction of slavers, saved a few lives, and we all got out alive. I think we all deserve to focus on the positive for once."

Raul and Niner returned to the kitchen to resume their task of cooking molerat stew (which they accidently left on the stove, and now it was boiling over). Sally and Ziggy sat in the rec room, putting old holotapes in the television and watching pre-war movies as they snacked on a box of potato crisps. Sandra remained in bed, and as the hours passed, she felt loads better. She didn't know that Arcade had administered a stimpack to her in her sleep, and now, there were no troubling dreams of the Capitol Wasteland or memories of Charon invading her dreams. Boone may have left her, but Arcade was still here, and so were the others. All was well.


	23. Love's a Loaded Gun I

Throughout the day of Sandra's recovery, everything was fine for the Courier Army.

By the time sunset came around, Sandra was on her feet again. Apart from a few leftover cuts and bruises, she felt much better now that she had plenty of sleep and a stimpack from her doctor. At the dinner table, Sandra proposed that they spend a night on the town to let some steam off. Arcade told her that he thought it was too soon for her to be up and about again, but she insisted, and Niner only encouraged her. After all, it was Friday night, and Sandra knew that Gomorrah would be playing their pre-war rock music collection, just like they did every Friday night. She didn't want to miss that. As the others ate their dinners and made small talk, Sally sat at the end of the table, trying to show Ziggy how to use silverware for his mashed potatoes. The dinner was wonderful. It was the most peaceful meal that Sandra ever had. She wasn't even thinking about Boone's departure.

But throughout this day, as the Courier Army made themselves comfortable and got some well-earned rest, an escaped frumentarius was struggling to make his way across the wasteland, alone, wounded, and on foot. He didn't have his Legionaries with him. No... his Legionaries couldn't be trusted. Someone had sent those assassins after him, and everyone under his command was a suspect. There were some Legionaries who had expressed their displeasure at having Vulpes take the throne, as they believed it rightfully belonged to Lanius. But, those Legionaries were powerless to remove Vulpes from Caesar's position. If any of them threatened his position of power, Vulpes would have lashed them to a cross in no time. He knew that the slick, evil subordinates would have found another way to remove him... for example, hiring assassins from a profligate crime outfit and setting him up for a surprise attack after the pacification of Rubble Town.

The assassins knew to arrive to Rubble Town, and they knew to wait until after the attack was over, when Vulpes would be presumably exhausted from battle. At first, he suspected that the courier's friends might have sent the criminals after him, but that wasn't the case. The profligate doctor, Arcade, considered himself too moral to resort to using criminals to do his bidding. No, they wouldn't have gone to the syndicate for help. But the Legion certainly would have. Someone in his Legion told them when and where to ambush him, and they nearly succeeded...

"Blasted... sleazy... back-stabbing... _aaagh.._." Vulpes growled to himself, falling to the ground behind an abandoned Red Rocket gas station. His armor was falling off his body in chunks, and his hand was clasped around a bleeding hole under his ribs. He'd been shot, and if not for his armor, he would've taken more than just one bullet. Those assassins had unloaded on him, shooting and shooting... he remembered it vividly, darting into the town and narrowly dodging the missile fire of the securitrons, somehow forcing his body to move even with the burning pain in his side...

The entire day had come and gone since then. Vulpes spent hours making his way towards Vegas, occasionally stopping to catch his breath, dab away the blood, and drink from his vault canteen. His hand was cramping. It'd been clamped over his wound all day. But the pain in his hand was nothing compared to the striking agony in his side. He planned to reach Vegas, to slip into Gomorrah, and to find whoever remained of the syndicate. He intended to eliminate them. That was his only option. He didn't know what he was going to do about the Legion, or where to proceed after killing the syndicate. According to his best sources, the syndicate's leader had been assassinated recently, but the outfit still had members integrated into the Omerta Family. As long as there was a bounty on his head, Vulpes was in trouble. The only way of eliminating the bounty was to eliminate the faction hired to carry it out.

Vulpes laid still for a moment, took a last sip from his canteen, and forced his body to sit upright, letting out a groan as he did. He reached under the dumpster beside him and pulled out one of his stashed profligate disguises, his fine suit and his pre-war hat. With some difficulty, he was able to remove his broken armor piece by piece, slip into his dress pants, then his shoes, and finally, his shirt and jacket. He didn't button up the white shirt or the jacket, as he didn't want to stain either of them with his blood. He placed the hat on his head, clutched his bleeding side, and headed for the gates of Freeside.

He'd walked for hours and hours on end, and it was wearing on him. His energy drained more and more the further he went, but he couldn't stop now. He was almost there. The lights of Vegas were shining right in front of him, brightening the sky as night began to fall.

There were three Kings members standing outside of the gate, laughing and passing a bottle of rum to each other.

"Hey, buddy!" one of them shouted at Vulpes. "Sup, man? You're lookin' kinda sick, there. Been hittin' the booze early, huh?"

The Kings chuckled and high-fived. Vulpes scowled at them, pushed the gates open, and stepped into Freeside.

With every step, the ground seemed to move under his feet. He couldn't see straight anymore. He was completely drained. But he had to press on... had to carry out his mission...

"Ugh..."

Vulpes collapsed against a street light, grabbing it and trying to remain standing, but he couldn't. He hit the ground, and he stayed there for almost twenty minutes.

Julie Farkas was on her way out of the Old Mormon Fort in order to retrieve a package of chems from the Wrangler, but she froze when she spotted Vulpes.

"Oh no..." Julie gasped, rushing to his side and kneeling beside him. "Hey... are you alright? Can you hear me?"

Julie tried to lay her hand on his face, but Vulpes smacked it away.

"Stay away..." he rasped exhaustedly. "Don't... stay... stay away..."

Julie frowned, spotting the bleeding wound on his side. "You need treatment. Come on, I'll take you inside."

"No..." Vulpes rumbled. "No... I don't want..."

"You need help. Come on." Julie grasped one of his arms and tried to hoist him upright. "Don't worry. We won't charge you. Come on, that's it..."

"I d... I.." Vulpes croaked.

Julie slowly escorted him into the fort.

Vulpes went quiet. He needed to carry out his mission, but he wouldn't be able to do that with this gaping hole in his side. Perhaps he needed to swallow his pride, just this once, just so he could finish his task...

Julie took him to a surgery tent. Inside, there were yellow mats on the ground covered with thin, sterile mattresses. Some of the surgery beds were occupied. Most of the patients were asleep, but one of them was sitting up and peering around curiously. It was a little boy with a torn t-shirt tenting over his body, a dirt-stained face, and a head of scraggly brown hair.

"Who's that?" the boy asked Julie, pointing to Vulpes.

"Another patient, Conor," Julie replied, gently lying Vulpes in an unoccupied bed. "Just let him rest, okay?"

The boy named Conor nodded.

"I need to go get my equipment, alright? I'll be right back," Julie said, reaching her feet and leaving the tent.

Vulpes kept his hand on his bleeding side, glaring up at the top of the tent and heaving a series of slow, heavy breaths.

"What happened to you?" Conor asked him.

Vulpes ignored the boy.

"I bet you got shot. Did you get shot?" the child pestered. "I know what it looks like when people get shot. My daddy got shot too. He's dead."

Vulpes said nothing.

"My big sister got shot too. But she's okay, 'cause Julie fixed her!" Conor said. "My sister says we're lucky we didn't die like our dad did. She says they would've put us on crosses if they caught up to us. But we got away! We were so fast!"

Vulpes didn't reply.

When it became apparent that Vulpes wasn't interested in talking, Conor picked up one of his comic books and began to read. It was hard for him to hold the book properly. His left hand was missing two fingers.

Vulpes barely turned his head, observing the boy. Conor's hand was absent of a pinky and a ring finger.

Conor looked over, noticing that Vulpes was watching him.

"You look worried. Don't worry," the child said, giving Vulpes an innocent, beaming smile. "Julie's real good at fixing people. You'll be okay, just like my big sister."

Vulpes still didn't speak. He wondered what the child had done to his Legion masters in order to warrant that punishment. Removing the fingers was a common punishment for insubordinate slaves. Depending on the age of the child's sister, she might have unknowingly been carrying an unborn Legion baby. Legionaries prioritized woman slaves for the sole purpose of procreating, hoping to one day make the Legion stronger in numbers...

Julie returned and went to Vulpes' bedside. She opened his shirt and prepped him for a quick surgery. She then grabbed a stimpack and held the needle to his arm.

Vulpes jumped and tried to pull his arm away, giving her a defensive look and shaking his head.

"You need it," Julie said. "What? Are you against chems? You can't afford to be. Not right now."

"Don't..." Vulpes uttered. His voice had deteriorated into a faint, hoarse whisper.

"Look at me." Julie took on a serious visage, hunching over him and staring into his face. "I am a doctor, and you are my patient. I want to make you better. Now, please... let me."

Vulpes glared at her for several seconds. Finally, he relaxed his arm and allowed her to treat him. He winced when he felt the needle inch into his skin.

"It's not addictive. Just a stimpack," Julie assured him. "It speeds up the body's healing process. That's all."

She tossed the empty syringe aside and grabbed a two-pronged tool. "Now... brace yourself. This will hurt a bit."

Vulpes clenched his teeth together. Julie pressed the tool into his wound, and he groaned behind his lips, not allowing himself to scream. Seconds later, she pulled it from his body, and in between the two prongs was the bullet that had lodged itself in his side. Julie placed it in the surgical tray, then went to work medicating the wound and patching it up. When the fort was low on supplies, they would use wonderglue to seal their patients' wounds rather than stitches. After the glue was applied, Julie put a fair amount of gauze on the hole, then gently pulled Vulpes into a sitting position, wrapping surgical tape around him in order to hold the gauze in place.

"And there we go. You'll be good as new in no time, if you actually let yourself rest, that is," Julie said. "The stimpack will help to seal up that hole in your side a lot quicker. But... you still need to rest. I know your type. You're the hard-hitting proud kind of guy, aren't you? I get people like you in here all the time. Guys who think they don't have time for their health. Well, I'm telling you for your own sake; put your pride away for tonight. Get some sleep. You really need it."

Julie patted him on the shoulder, stood, and left the tent again.

Vulpes picked up his button-up, put it on, wrapped his tie around his neck, and slipped into his jacket. He wanted to leave. He wanted to reach the strip, to find whoever planned to kill him and to put them out of commission, but his vision still wavered, and he barely had the strength to remain sitting upright. He didn't know if he could stand right now.

Conor hopped off of his bed and went to Vulpes.

Vulpes gave him an odd look. The boy was holding a sweet roll in his hands.

"Julie gives me one of these every day," Conor said. "She says it's good for your blood sugar. It gives you energy. Want some?"

Vulpes stared at him.

Conor tore the roll in half and handed one of the bread chunks to him.

Vulpes hesitantly took the food, examining it rather closely before taking a small bite of it. He hadn't eaten all day. He didn't realize how hungry he was.

Conor was delighted to see him eat the roll. He darted to his bed, grabbed a Nukacola, and brought it to Vulpes. "These are full of caffeine! They give you _super_ energy!" he exclaimed.

Vulpes drank half the bottle in three massive gulps, then handed it back to Conor. He then scarfed down his half of the sweet roll and let out a long sigh when he was finished.

Conor smiled. "You like them? Do you want my half too?" He offered the rest of the sweet roll to him.

Vulpes eyed it hungrily. He met Conor's wide hazel eyes, then released another sigh.

"No," Vulpes said tiredly. "Keep that one for yourself."

"Hey... you have a cool voice," Conor said. "Your voice sounds... smooth... like a fish!"

Vulpes blinked. _Like a fish?_

"How come you got shot?" Conor asked bluntly. "Was it bad guys? Was it the Legion bad guys?"

"The Legion aren't..." Vulpes started, staring down at his lap. "Well... yes. It was the Legion."

"Woooooow... did you fight them all by yourself?"

"Um... yes. I did."

"Really? You must be really strong, then. What about your family?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your momma and your daddy... what happened to them?"

Vulpes looked off, gazing thoughtfully into nothingness. "I don't have any family," he said.

Conor's smile vanished. "You don't have a momma and daddy? How come?"

"Why must you ask so many pointless questions, boy?" Vulpes said harshly.

Conor frowned sadly at him.

Vulpes grumbled. He waited for Conor to leave him be, but the boy didn't move. He still expected an answer.

"My mother and father didn't want me. That's why," Vulpes stated.

"They didn't?!" Conor asked, sounding shocked. "Why not? Didn't they love you? Your momma and daddy are always supposed to love you."

"There's no such thing as love, boy," Vulpes growled.

"Yeah there is," Conor replied. "My daddy loved me. He died because he was fighting the bad guys... so me and my sister could get away. He died saving us... 'cause he loved us."

"Well, how nice for you," Vulpes snarled. "Not everyone is so blessed, boy."

Conor went quiet for a moment.

"Is that why you hate everybody?" he asked.

Vulpes shot him a severe look.

"I mean... you act like you hate everybody," Conor said. "If your momma and daddy didn't want you, then... you must be lonely. Is that why you hate everybody? Cause you don't have any family and friends?"

"I hate everyone because everyone is _worth_ hating, boy," Vulpes hissed. "People are wretched. Disloyal. Back-stabbing. Selfish. Self-indulgent. They deserve far worse than my hatred. Even when you think that they're on your side, they..."

He trailed off.

Conor tilted his head at Vulpes.

Vulpes' eyes drifted down to Conor's hand. Only three fingers. Not five.

"Who did that," Vulpes said. "To your hand. Who did that?"

"Oh..." Conor held up his mutilated hand. "Um... the bad guys. They made me work in the garden all day, and then... they tried to make me fight in the arena, so... I told them no. They got mad, and they... they..."

"They would have taken you to their leader before they did anything," Vulpes said. "They would have taken you to the throne, and they would have asked their leader what course of action to take with a rebellious slave. Presenting them to the leader was a way of scaring them into submission before punishment. Who did they bring you to?"

"Um... it was a... a guy in a dress. He had a really round head, like... like an egg," Conor told him. "And his hair was yellow."

"Lord Caesar," Vulpes murmured. "Yes. Exactly. Exactly right, boy."

Conor looked confused.

"Because I wouldn't have done that. Not to a child," Vulpes said. "No... because I'm... I'm learning that mercy is... sometimes... acceptable. Yes... and that means that I _don't_ hate everyone, boy. So... watch your mouth before you make snap judgments about people. Understand?"

Conor nodded, still looking lost.

Vulpes stared at the open tent flap. He needed to leave. His energy was slowly returning to him. Apparently, the profligate medication was working like a charm. His wound was still pulsating painfully, but he figured that he had enough strength to move now.

"I'll be your friend," Conor said timidly. "If you don't have any other friends... I'll be your friend."

Vulpes looked his way again. "You don't want to be my friend, boy."

"How come?"

"Because my friends never last."

"Why?"

"Because... they betray me. They betray me, and then they die."

"They die? Why do they die? What kills them?"

Vulpes glared heatedly at the tent flap again, his eyes igniting into their usual fiery blue. "Me."

The frumentarius fought through the pain, ordering his body to stand fully upright. He straightened his hat, took in a deep breath, and exhaled. Yes, he would exact vengeance on the Legionaries that betrayed him after he dealt with the assassins in Gomorrah. He didn't know how, but he'd succeed however he could. Nothing could stand in his way.

"I'm sorry," Conor said.

Vulpes blinked at the child.

"I'm sorry you had a bad life..." Conor told him. "I'll still be your friend. What's your name?"

"Mr. Fox," Vulpes replied.

He moved to leave the tent, hesitated, and turned to Conor one last time.

"Good on you for not taking orders," Vulpes said, wearing a slight smirk. "Never bow to anyone, boy. Stand tall."

Conor grinned.

Vulpes left the fort, still holding his side even though he wasn't bleeding anymore. The bullet wound still hurt terribly, but it didn't matter. He pressed on towards the entrance to the strip, slipping his passport from his jacket and thinking of the Legion, of the assassins, of the boy who pitied him even though he had eight fingers.

* * *

Sandra's night on the town was a blast.

First, she took the liberty of introducing Sally and Ziggy to the manager of the Tops, Swank. Swank was glad to hire the new talent, and Sally let out an excited squeal. Sandra left them in Swank's capable hands before leaving for the gift shop (where Niner bought a flashy, stylish outfit, boldly suggesting that Sandra wear a slutty dress). Once they were finished in the Tops, Raul returned to the Lucky 38 to turn in early. Sandra, Arcade, and Niner remained on the strip; Arcade was wearing a sleek navy suit, Niner was flaunting his new threads - a silverish button-up, a pair of sleek black pants, and an enormous fedora with a feather sticking out of it - and Sandra, for once, was dressed nicely. She'd chosen an elegant black-and-red dress from the shop, and parts of the dress had sparkles. She thought it might have been too revealing, both of her cleavage and of her ugly wasteland scars, but for once, she didn't care.

Upon entering Gomorrah, Sandra was thrilled to hear that Alice Cooper was blaring throughout the building. They headed for the bar in the back of the building, ordered the sweetest margaritas on the menu, and Sandra downed them as fast as she could. Tonight was a great night, and she wanted to celebrate in full. After all, she was home, away from those slavers and here with all of her friends, with enough money to bathe in Gomorrah's most expensive liquors. Why shouldn't she be happy?

Niner poked her on the butt, and Sandra smacked his hand away. "Quit it, you perv."

"C'mon, six..." Niner scooped her into an intimate embrace, pressing his forehead against hers. "It's a nice night. How 'bout you and I get one of them hotel rooms, and..."

"No," Sandra said, removing his hands from her hips. "They have hookers here, Niner. You don't have to hit on me. There's slutty women literally everywhere."

"Mm... good point," Niner agreed. "Seeya."

Niner pushed through the crowd and stood in front of the stage, staring up the legs of a dancing prostitute. Sandra leaned backwards on the bar counter, took another drink, and began singing along with the music.

"One down, one to go... just another bullet in the chamber... sometimes, love's a loaded gun... red light, stop and go... whatcha' gonna do when you play with danger... sometimes, love's a loaded gun... and it shoots to kill~"

"Yeah... about this place," Arcade said, glimpsing at some of the suited guards. "Didn't we come here to confront that syndicate guy, Mr. Chase?"

"Mmm? Yeah, we did, yeah... so what?" Sandra replied.

"Well... the syndicate is probably still a notable presence here, in some form..." Arcade muttered. "I mean, their leader is dead, and Mr. Chase got carted off by the NCR... but there might be syndicate goons still lurking around here."

"So?"

"So... if they recognized you... don't you think it might be... I don't know... potentially problematic?"

"Oh, hell yeah. That would fucking suck."

"Well..."

Arcade raised his eyebrows at her. Sandra stared blankly at him.

"Don't you think we should try to _avoid_ that?" he said, feeling like he was talking to a tree stump.

Sandra shrugged. "I don't know. I mean... everyone on the strip's been talking about us ever since we got into the Lucky 38. Everyone knows who we are, and everyone knows not to lay a hand on us. I'm not really worried."

Arcade grimaced. He hoped that Sandra was right, but he didn't have a good feeling about the situation...

Some of the people in the crowd began to yell. A circle was forming around the stage, and Niner appeared to be right in the middle of it.

"Oy! Whaddid you say about my hat, bitch?!" Niner hollered, punching one of the tourists in the jaw.

The crowd began to chant. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"Oh, good lord..." Arcade sighed. "Niner! Stop it!"

Arcade marched off, disappearing into the crowd in order to pry Niner away from the fight. Sandra remained by the bar, laughing into her drink. She watched Niner's fight from afar, not noticing the familiar figure who appeared in the doorway.

Vulpes spotted her at once. Her blazing red hair could be seen for miles, and now, she had a loud crimson dress to match it. He stared fixedly at her, seeming to think very hard about something. He stood rooted to the spot for nearly a full minute before finally deciding to approach the bar.

One of the Omertas was leaning on the bar beside her now, looking her up and down.

"Damn, you're sexy," the Omerta said. "Buy you a drink?"

"Nah, man," Sandra replied. "I'm good. You can have one on me, if you want."

"Hot damn, I'm liking you more and more," he grinned. "What's your name, baby?"

"Trouble," Vulpes' voice spoke from directly behind her.

Sandra spun around, suddenly alarmed.

The Omerta squinted at Vulpes.

"Her name is Trouble," Vulpes told the man. "And you're in for it if you get involved with her. Trust me."

The Omerta shook his head and walked away. Sandra gaped at Vulpes.

"What?" Vulpes said. "It's true."

"What are you _doing_ here?" Sandra gasped.

"That depends on your answer," Vulpes replied. "Did you come here alone?"

"No."

"Then let's go somewhere with more privacy. We need to talk without your annoying doctor breathing down our necks."

"No way."

"Yes way."

"I don't trust you."

"I don't trust you either. But I'm certain that you'd like to hear what I have to say," Vulpes said. "You want to make the Mojave a better place, yes? Cleanse it of criminal elements? Well, I've got a target for you. And it's urgent. Come, now."

Sandra didn't move. "How do I know you won't try to kill me once we're alone?"

"Because I saved your life," Vulpes told her. "And I wouldn't do that for someone I wanted dead, would I? You're useful to me, and I can be useful to you. Come on, now. We don't have time for this. Order a hotel room, and let's get moving. Make sure the hotel room is on the second floor."

"You tried to kill me before..." Sandra said. "You tracked me across the desert just for revenge... because of Caesar..."

"Circumstances have changed," Vulpes replied. "Come on. Hurry up. Second floor suite. Get one."

Sandra looked into the crowd. Arcade had restrained Niner's arms behind his back, and the tourist was being held back by one of the guards. No one would notice if she slipped away...

Hesitantly, Sandra went to the counter, ordered a key for a suite on the second floor, and marched off with Vulpes. The elevator ride was the tensest silence that Sandra had ever encountered in her life. When they reached the second floor, Vulpes took the lead. They walked down the hallway, and Vulpes entered a men's bathroom, walked to the furthest stall, and pulled a tile from the floor, retrieving a small revolver that he had stashed there a long time ago. He hid the gun away in his jacket and returned to the hallway. Sandra and Vulpes walked the halls until they found their room, number 42.

They both stepped into the room, closed the door behind them, and locked it.

The room was beautiful; it had an enormous fluffy bed, a lush maroon carpet underneath the bed's frame, a hardwood floor that looked to be polished spotless, and opposite of them, there were windows all along the wall, giving them a wonderful view of the Vegas lights. The walls were decorated with grand paintings of lands far away, and the room was complete with candle holders along the walls and a brilliant chandelier dangling in from the center of the ceiling.

Vulpes stood at one of the windows, gripping his side and repressing a pained moan.

Sandra stared at him. "So..."

"The Omertas run this casino, as I'm sure you know," Vulpes said. "Do you know of any criminal elements apart from the casino families?"

Sandra swallowed. "Um... why do you ask?"

"Because one of them has infiltrated the Omertas, and they..." Vulpes paused. His breath was becoming thin again. "They... need to be brought down."

"The syndicate? You know about the syndicate?" Sandra asked. "Are they after you too?"

Vulpes turned and met her eyes. "Too? So you've done something to ruffle their feathers, then. That makes sense, knowing you."

"Yeah, I... I might've killed off their leader," Sandra said.

Vulpes stared at her. "Of course you did. It just _had_ to be you. It _always_ comes back to you somehow. Ngh..." He faced the window again, the pain in his side spiraling up and down his body.

"Well, technically, Arcade did it. Zimmer almost killed me," Sandra said, pointing to the deep gash on her shoulder. "Why're they after you?"

"Not of import," Vulpes answered shortly. "The point is, they're after you and I both. We have a common enemy. I wanted to find out who's in charge of them now, so... so we might..."

Vulpes became increasingly dizzy the more he talked. It took a strenuous amount of energy for him to keep standing, to walk, and to talk as if nothing was wrong with him.

Sandra surveyed him closely. He wasn't acting right. Something about this was off...

"Why didn't you just bring your spies here?" Sandra questioned. "You could've had backup if you wanted it. And... why're you even worried about the syndicate? They wouldn't go anywhere near Cottonwood Cove. You're safe as long as you're with the Legion."

Vulpes said nothing. He closed his eyes, silently trying to will the pain away, but it wasn't working.

"You're gonna have to be honest with me if you want my help," Sandra told him. "Tell me what's going on."

Vulpes took a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His consciousness tried to abandon him again, but he smacked his hand against the window, holding himself upright and catching himself before he could fall.

"What's wrong with you?" Sandra approached him from behind. "Are you okay?"

"Stop it," Vulpes growled. "Don't say that to me. Don't talk to me like that... like you're... like you're..."

"Like I'm what? Your friend?" Sandra replied. "I could be your friend, if you'd let me. Might as well make some new allies, now that Boone's gone..."

Vulpes went quiet again.

"Did something happen with the Legion?" Sandra wondered. "Is there some reason you can't ask them for help instead?"

Vulpes remained leaning on the window, glaring outside and saying nothing.

"Tell me," Sandra urged. "I'll help you if you tell me."

The room was filled with silence for several minutes. It took forever for Vulpes to finally reply.

"They betrayed me," he murmured. "Someone in the Legion... wanted me removed from the throne... so... they sent the assassins... they can't be trusted."

Sandra had a grim look about her.

"You don't have anywhere else to turn, then..." she said. "You're stuck on your own now."

Vulpes turned, trying to stand on his own again.

"You said assassins came after you," Sandra said. "You're hurt, aren't you?"

"I think..." he muttered. "I think... it was Lucius. Lucius sent them. He could run the Legion... and he's been talking about it... Lanius being angry... wanting the throne back... Lucius would hold the Legion together for Lanius... until he arrives to the west... to..."

Vulpes' body tried to give out on him again. Sandra grabbed him by the arms and steadied him.

"I don't want your pity," Vulpes rasped, trying to push her away, but she kept a hold of him.

"It's not pity," Sandra said. "I just... don't want you busting your head open on the floor."

Vulpes let out a lot of fast breaths, each of them slicing through his gritting teeth. He hated this. He wanted to do this with his own two hands, but his body wouldn't cooperate with him. If he was in this condition under Caesar's rule, his old master might have deemed him useless by now. He might have already cast him aside, deciding to exile him from the Legion or to put a bullet in his head to spare them the burden of giving him medical treatment. This was weakness, and he despised it.

"Hey," Sandra said, looking for some hint of understanding in his gaze. "It's okay, alright? I'll help you."

Vulpes returned the stare. The truth of it was, he _needed_ her help, whether he wanted to rely on it or not. He had absolutely nothing now, no master to manage his thoughts for him and no Legionaries to back him.

"Do you think... I don't know... do you think you might be able to negotiate with the Legion?" Sandra suggested. "You have some pretty heavy influence with them. Maybe if we went back to the Fort..."

"You can't _negotiate_ with Legionnaires," Vulpes told her. "You're either on their side, or you're not. Besides that... I abandoned them after Rubble Town fell.. they might already consider me a deserter... in which case, they'd try to kill me on sight. And they'd most assuredly kill you without hesitation. I'm wounded. I'm weak. And they don't want me there anymore... not... since..."

He wavered in his stance. Sandra guided him over to the bed, allowing him to sit down.

"Aaaah..." Vulpes clasped his side. "Damn... damn it, damn it, damn it all to hell..."

"Well... they can't get to you here." Sandra sat beside him. "As long as you're in Vegas, you're safe."

"I've got no way of staying in Vegas," Vulpes exhaled. "I've got no money, no allies, no..."

"You could stay in the Lucky 38," Sandra proposed. "I won't let them get to you."

Vulpes gave her a long, disbelieving stare.

"I thought you were worried I'd kill you," he said.

"Yeah," Sandra shrugged. "But I'm not afraid to take a chance on you. Besides... you wouldn't have saved my life if you wanted me dead. Right? Plus, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't get away with killing me. Not here, around all my friends..."

"I've no idea how you've lived this long... being so naive..." Vulpes said. "And... I imagine your little friends wouldn't be too happy about this..."

"I'll work it out somehow," Sandra replied. "Raul and Niner would understand if I explained it to them... Arcade's the one I'm worried about..."

Vulpes laid himself backwards on the bed, trying not to doze off.

"Tell me what you want from me," he said.

"What?" Sandra asked.

"I've given you no reason to help me... and you're eager to do it," Vulpes said. "Usually, people only act that way if they expect something in return. So... tell me what you want from me."

Sandra watched him.

"Honestly..." she said thoughtfully. "I want you to have someone decent in your life. It sounds like you've never had that before."

"Tch," Vulpes scoffed, turning his head and averting her gaze.

"I had a friend like you once, you know that?" Sandra added.

"So you've said," Vulpes moaned.

"He spent his life getting treated like shit, so he acted like he hated everyone on the planet," Sandra explained. "I just... don't like it. Nobody should have to live like that. It's... sad to watch. But... eventually, I convinced him."

"Oh, pray tell," Vulpes said sarcastically. "Of _what_ did you convince him?"

"That someone cared about him," Sandra answered. "I know it all sounds like sappy bullshit to you, but that's the reason. That's why I'm helping you. Because you deserve a break by now."

Vulpes fought to keep his eyes open. The comfort of this bed was lulling him to sleep, but he couldn't rest yet. He pondered on the courier's childish words, letting out a tired utterance before finally falling asleep by accident.

"I... deserve... retribution..."


	24. Love's a Loaded Gun II

"Where did she..."

Arcade returned to the bar, and Sandra was nowhere to be seen. The guards were standing around Niner and giving him a lengthy, threatening lecture about starting fights in the casino. Niner had his arms crossed, and he was pouting like a ten-year-old being scolded. When the guards finally left him alone, Niner joined Arcade at the bar.

"Sandra's gone," Arcade said. "Did you see where she went?"

"Nah. I was busy," Niner grumped, rubbing the side of his face where the tourist had smacked him. "Mudderfucker was makin' fun of my hat..."

"Right... I guess you have your own priorities," Arcade snarked. "We shouldn't have come here. This was a bad idea."

"Man, it was jus' a little fight. Shit happens in here all the time."

"No, I mean... we know that the syndicate is integrated with this place. Therefore, we shouldn't have come here."

"Zimmer's dead, man. We got nothing to worry about."

"Just because Zimmer's dead doesn't mean the entire syndicate disappeared overnight. Whoever's left over would want us buried if they recognized us here."

"You're paranoid."

Arcade sighed. "I certainly hope so."

They were silent for a moment.

"I wonder if we're ever actually gonna _do_ something for Vegas," Arcade mumbled. "We've been running ragged, and have precious little to show for it..."

"What're you talking about?" Niner asked. "We got a whole stash of gold, man. We're loaded."

"Yeah, and so far all we've done is blow it on food and liquor," Arcade replied. "We haven't helped anyone. Not to mention, Mr. House is still in the picture, and we still have no idea where Hidden Valley is... plus, we've yet to make contact with the Great Khans... and our relationship with the NCR is somewhere between sour and nonexistent..."

"You're killin' my buzz," Niner said. "Why don't we save all that for tomorrow? You're the one who said we deserve a day off."

"Yeah, well... one of these days, I'd like to get something done..."

"Listen, doctor man. We wiped out a whole society'a slavers. That's a pretty big accomplishment in jus' one day, ain't it?"

"Well... yes..."

"Then shut up and drink. We're done for now."

Arcade chuckled. "Yeah. Suppose you're right."

Niner turned up his bottle, drained it empty, and let out a loud burp.

"Well'p, I'm off to sneak into the women's bathroom," Niner said. "Maybe Six is in there. I might get to peek up her dress if I'm lucky. Seeya' man."

Niner shuffled off. Arcade laughed and shook his head.

The music blared and the performers danced. The gamblers screamed and wooed, throwing their caps and their NCR bills on the foot of the stage. From the ceiling, the multicolored lights coasted over the crowd in many streaks of purple, red, and green. It was one of Gomorrah's busier nights. Arcade was fascinated by the emptiness of the room, despite everything that was going on. In reality, the room was chock-full of activity, but Arcade couldn't see anything of substance amidst the commotion. It was all idiocy, screaming, dancing, and drinking mindlessly in order to avoid the harsh realities of the world. Still... he figured that he understood it to some extent. After traveling with Sandra and Niner, he understood more why people needed to take the edge off occasionally. Everyone deserved to have a break now and then. For people like them, life was an ever-changing rollercoaster of unpredictable events and tragedies. It wasn't a wonder why they longed for a vacation from such a routine.

Arcade turned to the bar, wanting to order another drink, and he realized that the man behind the counter was making eyes at him.

"Get you a cocktail, big man?" the bartender said, wearing a sly smile. "You look like you need some... relaxation."

"Overt flirting will get you everywhere, you know," Arcade smirked. "Yes, please. And a Nukacola for my friend."

The bartender placed his drinks on the counter. Arcade took a sip of his liquor, glimpsing around and waiting for Sandra to return, but she was nowhere around. Time passed, and after he went through three drinks, Sandra's Nukacola was still sitting unopened beside him, and he couldn't see any sign of her in the crowd.

"Excuse me," Arcade said, grabbing the bartender's attention. "Have you seen a girl with red hair? And a red dress?"

"Oh, that little firecracker you came in with... yes, she left a while ago with a savvy looking fella in a suit," the bartender replied. "Haven't seen her since."

Arcade's stomach sank. Sandra left with someone in a suit? Could it have been a syndicate goon? Why would she wander off with one of them willingly?

"Thanks," Arcade said, marching away from the bar. He approached the corner of the room, where a small door was being guarded by two suits. "Oh... I'm so going to regret this..."

He took in a big breath, composed himself, and approached the two guards.

"Hi there," Arcade smiled, trying to sound as polite and non-threatening as possible. "I was wondering... could I possibly speak with your manager?"

The guards swapped glances from behind their sunglasses.

At once, they sprung forward. One of them grabbed Arcade from behind and clamped his hand over the doctor's mouth, and the other shoved them into the off-limits hallway they were guarding. The guards forcibly escorted Arcade up the stairs. Arcade fought them. One of the guards tightened his arms around Arcade's head, trapping him in a sleeper hold. After a moment, Arcade went limp, and they dragged him up the stairs to the manager's office.

* * *

Despite her predicament, Sandra was enjoying her time in the suite.

When Vulpes fell asleep, she carefully pulled one of the blankets out of the bed and draped it over him. Then, she rifled through the holodisk collection on the shelf and gathered the ones she wanted to watch. She wrapped a blanket around her legs, turned on the television, ordered room service, and watched an old program that she used to watch as a child in Vault 101. Someone brought a cart full of food to the room; gravy slathered brahmin steaks, potato crisps, Nukacolas, waters, and chocolate cake for desert. For a while, Sandra sat beside the snoozing frumentarius, snacking on her foods and watching television from the edge of the bed.

Occasionally, she'd glimpse over at Vulpes, and she'd wonder what her next course of action should be. She'd question everything she told him, and she wondered why she had agreed to help him so willingly. Everything she told him was true; she didn't like thinking of people who lived a life like his, constantly being stepped on and used by other people. Thinking of Nipton and Searchlight, she wondered if he really deserved her help... but after what she did to Denver, she couldn't rightfully judge Vulpes. Sandra herself was guilty of the very same crimes, and here she was, reforming and trying to atone for her mistakes. If she could do it, then it was only fair for Vulpes to have the same opportunity.

"I'm glad Boone's not here anymore..." Sandra murmured, watching Vulpes sleep. "He'd shoot me in the face if he knew about this..."

As more time passed, she began to wonder about Arcade and Niner. She considered leaving the suite and going downstairs to check on them, but she'd be leaving Vulpes alone and unconscious if she did, and if the syndicate really was among the Omertas... the goons might get the jump on him if she left him here alone. So, she stayed put, munching on her crisps and watching her favorite program. Despite her trying to focus on the show, her mind continued to wander. When, exactly, did she start to care about this Legion frumentarius? Maybe it _was_ out of pity. Then again, maybe it was simply because she saw a bit of Charon in him... an angry, wounded soul who had absolutely no one and nothing to rely on in the world...

Sandra got up to switch to the third holodisk of the Silver Shroud series. When she moved, Vulpes began to stir awake. After starting the next tape, she reclaimed her seat and scooted the cart of food towards the other side of the bed.

"Got some food," Sandra said. "Have some."

Vulpes blinked awake, slowly sitting upright and grumbling as he did.

"Why did you let me fall asleep..." he breathed.

"You looked like you were gonna keel over," Sandra replied. "Eat something."

Vulpes didn't need telling. He ingested an entire bottle of water, then began to inhale the brahmin steaks. He looked like he hadn't eaten in months.

"How long has it been?" Vulpes asked, wiping his mouth.

"I don't know... an hour? Hour and a half?" Sandra answered.

"We need to make a plan," Vulpes said. "I have one in mind."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. One of us needs to get captured. Otherwise, we aren't going to know who's in charge here," Vulpes explained. "While you're being escorted to the leader of this establishment, I'll be liberating a weapon from the kitchen... perhaps some kind of large knife... and-"

"Hang on, why do I have to be the one who gets captured?" Sandra asked.

"Because you have collateral," Vulpes replied. "You say your doctor companion is the one who killed Zimmer, which means that they wouldn't just be pursuing you. They'd be pursuing _both_ of you. So, if they capture you, they'll keep you alive in order to extract the whereabouts of your doctor friend. Whereas, if they captured me... they'd simply kill me. Besides... I wouldn't rely on you to get me out of a hostage situation."

"Thanks," Sandra snarked. "So... while I'm being held hostage... you're gonna steal a big knife from the kitchen? And then what? What're you gonna do with a big knife?"

"Melee is my forte," Vulpes told her. "I'd make my way to the manager's office, slip inside, and make short work of your captors."

"Yeah... that's not gonna work," Sandra said. "You're not really in fighting shape right now."

Vulpes went quiet, only just remembering that he was injured.

"Well," he said, slipping the revolver from his jacket. "I have this."

"That's way better than a stupid knife," Sandra said. "See, _that_ could work."

"I'd prefer a blade..." Vulpes grouched.

"Well... the manager might not be the same person as the person who's in charge of the syndicate," Sandra figured.

"He's not," Vulpes confirmed. "The manager is someone named Andrew. But he'll escort you to the syndicate's current leader, and I'll be following your tail. Once I have a clear view of the syndicate head, I'll take the shot."

"So, basically, I have to rely on you," Sandra determined.

"You'll have to hold to your decision to _take a chance on me,_ yes," Vulpes replied. "Don't worry. I need him dead as much as you do."

They both stopped talking. Sandra was watching the Silver Shroud, and Vulpes squinted oddly at the television screen.

"I don't understand this..." Vulpes muttered. "The sidekick is clearly smarter than the Shroud. Yet the Shroud is the one calling the shots. That's a clear tactical disadvantage. An amateur mistake. What imbecile put him in charge?"

Sandra stared at him. "You take everything way too damn seriously."

"What is the point of this?" Vulpes asked, motioning to the screen. "This... show. Whatever it is."

"Entertainment," Sandra told him. "You've been working as a spy forever, haven't you? You should understand the profligate lifestyle by now."

"I never have," Vulpes said, still watching the screen intently. "It's baffling to me. There's no purpose to it. No goal, no resolution, nothing. It's... mindless."

"It makes people happy," Sandra said simply. "Regular people don't have a strict doctrine like Legionaries do. Regular people just... live. Watching T.V., eating, drinking, partying... it makes people happy. That's all there is to it. Life is pretty empty if you don't do something fun every now and then."

Vulpes glared at the television.

Sandra watched him, knowing that everything she said probably went directly over his head. Vulpes Inculta had probably never experienced real happiness before in his life, unless it involved some form of torture...

"Before we do this... I wanna ask you something," Sandra said. "What are you gonna do when this is over? After the syndicate is taken care of."

Vulpes didn't reply right away.

"My life has no purpose without the Legion," he grumbled. "So... I'll watch television, I suppose."

"I mean, seriously... what're you gonna do?"

"I don't know. Stop asking me questions."

"I'm not just asking for me. You need to give it some thought."

"Right. Thank you for your opinion."

"You really could stick around," Sandra told him. "I've got money now, and a place to live, and protection, and..."

"And a bunch of profligate thugs who'd sooner lynch me than look me in the eyes," Vulpes cut in. "Your little friends wouldn't have it, even if I _did_ want to stay here. I don't want charity."

"It's not charity. It's... more of a job offer," Sandra said. "I could set you up with food, protection, a place to live, and caps... and in exchange, you could help me. Like... a contract."

"No," Vulpes said flatly. "I am _not_ signing my life over to you."

"Not that kind of contract, stupid," Sandra replied. "It's a verbal contract. Basically, it's just a job."

"You're basically suggesting that I change my allegiance," Vulpes said. "That's ridiculous."

"Not really... considering your previous allegiance tried to kill you," Sandra argued. "You need something else. You need actual friends."

"Let me make things perfectly clear for you, woman," Vulpes spoke with a certain strength in his tone. He forced himself to stand and loomed over her, looking pensive. "I. Have. No. Intention. Of. Being. _Friends."_

Sandra stood as well. They glared at each other from inches away, a staring contest of burning blue.

"Aren't you supposed to kill yourself?" Sandra asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah... I think Legionaries are supposed to kill themselves if they ever get exiled or captured. But you didn't. You ran, which means you actually want to live, Legion or not."

"I will win my Legion back."

"Ha! Really now? And tell me how you're gonna do that."

"Weeding out the traitors and restoring my position to my faithful."

"How?"

"Perseverance."

"That's not an answer. Tell me how you're gonna do it."

"Perseverance is all I've ever needed."

"Yeah, and look where it got you."

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Vulpes screamed. It pained him to yell, but he didn't care. "You - you couldn't _begin_ to understand, living without purpose, without drive, without strength, without... ANYTHING! WELL, I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU, WOMAN. I-AM-LE-GION! I AM NOT A FILTHY WRETCH LIKE YOU!"

 _WHAM._

Sandra's arm flew across Vulpes' sight, and he felt a stinging pain in his face.

Sandra almost smacked him again, but she stopped herself. "You're not Legion anymore. I've got news for _you,_ dumbass. The Legion hates you."

"Shut up," Vulpes growled.

"They tried to _kill_ you. They killed your entire tribe, kidnapped you, beat you until you turned into one of their little drones... I mean, for fucks sake, take a hint!" Sandra exclaimed. "They-don't-give-a-shit-about-you!"

"YOU-!" Vulpes coiled his hand around the front of her dress, leering heatedly into her. "You were the one who told me to take the throne! _Reform them, make them better, fix them_... INDEED! YES, BECAUSE THAT WORKED LIKE A BLASTED CHARM, DIDN'T IT?! _THIS IS YOUR FAULT!"_

"I know," Sandra said, returning his stare without a hint of fear or anger. "That's why I'm trying to help you now. I thought it would work. I'm sorry."

"DON'T-TELL-ME- _THAT!"_

Vulpes grabbed the cart of food and flipped it over, making a huge mess and leaving a gravy splatter on the side of the bed.

Sandra watched him, a solemn look on her face. She didn't move or flinch.

Vulpes growled behind his teeth, grabbing his side and feeling infuriated. He met Sandra's eyes again, and his anger doubled.

"STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!" he bellowed. "STOP-LOOKING-DOWN-ON-ME! STOP-PITYING-ME!"

"I can't," Sandra sighed. "You... you're too pitiful not to pity."

Vulpes lunged at her. She expected him to wrap his hands around her throat or to shove her to the ground, but he did neither. He grabbed her by the arms and gave her a few violent shakes, glaring madly into her face and appearing more conflicted than ever.

"You don't scare me," Sandra said calmly. "You're just scared. That's all this is."

Vulpes' nails dug into her skin, his grip tightening, his breaths slowing.

"You know what you're doing? You're projecting," Sandra told him in a softer, tender voice. "And... you know what else you're doing? You're looking at the only person in the world who might show you some compassion."

Vulpes kept hold of her, wanting to do something violent, something to assert himself, something that would put a stop to all this insolent arguing... but he didn't have the energy... and, strangely enough, for the first time in his life, he was beginning to think that violence couldn't solve the problems he faced.

Sandra took him by the arms, very cautiously removing his hands from her, her fingers keeping a gentle hold of his wrists in a light, friendly way.

"I'm sorry," she said in a voice so faint it was almost a whisper. "I'm sorry I gave you bad advice. But... now, I can do something to help you. So..."

Her thumbs stroked his skin, and then, she let go of him.

"Let me help you," Sandra said. "Okay?"

Vulpes' hands coiled into fists, his chest rising and falling with each frustrated breath, his words stuck in his throat.

"I'm gonna go snoop around.. see if I can get myself caught by some bad guys," Sandra told him, opening the door and stepping into the hall. "Just be ready to hold up your end of the deal."

She closed the door and vanished into the hallway, leaving Vulpes alone, standing over the dinner he'd destroyed. The only sounds in the room were his loud angry breaths and the Silver Shroud program playing on the television.

"Nonsense, buddy boy!" the Silver Shroud's voice echoed. "Why, we're heroes! Certainly we won't shoot them on sight! We have to give them a choice first! Even villains deserve a second chance!"

* * *

His vision returned to him, but it was too late.

A room began to construct around him, everything coming into view, the lines on the walls straightening up, the person in front of him sitting slacked back in his office chair, his feet propped up, his fingers intertwined, and his flashy cowboy hat consuming most of his head.

"Ah..." Arcade grasped his head. His skull was pounding.

He found himself sitting in a chair in the manager's office, the two guards who had captured him standing on either side of him, each of them carrying a riot shotgun. They had their guns pointed at the doctor's head. Arcade jumped when he saw them. One of the guards jammed the barrel of his gun into Arcade's temple. Arcade stiffened up. If he were to move from this chair, he'd be a dead man.

"Well, now, looky here..." the man behind the desk said, tipping his hat and revealing some of his greasy ginger hair. "Look who's come to."

Arcade tried not to show a hint of fear, and he only partially succeeded.

"The name's Andrew Clemmons," the cowboy said, extending a hand over the desk. "Pleasure."

Arcade gave him a caustic look. "I'd... I'd shake your hand, but I feel like your buddies might take it as a threat... so..."

Andrew laughed. "You're a funny one, y'are. What's your name, bud?"

"Ar... Arcade Gannon."

Andrew smiled in a creepy, predatory way. "Arcade Gannon. Well... lemme ask you a question, Arcade Gannon. Are ya' scared?"

"Oh, yeah, terrified," Arcade nodded. "Definitely terrified."

"Good," Andrew murmured eerily. "We shouldn't have to rough you up _too_ bad, then. Now... d'you know why I became the new manager of Gomorrah?"

Arcade gulped. "Y-you won the lottery?"

"Nah... I was a close personal friend of a guy named Zimmer," Andrew told him. "Zimmer thought I'd make a good middle man for his outfit and the Omertas. So... he had the last manager, ah... removed. Now... when my close personal friend, and my number one investor, somehow drops dead in his secret office outside of Vegas... and when rumors float around about a courier, a doctor, and a junkie being the last people he was seen with... that truly troubles me, Arcade Gannon."

"W-well, technically, nobody saw us and lived to tell about it. Everyone in St. Peters was dead, so..."

 _BAM._

One of the guards bashed the butt of his gun into Arcade's head. Arcade hunched over, grabbing his head and biting his lip.

"You think real careful about getting lippy with me, boy," Andrew rumbled, his smile vanishing. "It wasn't just any courier, either. It was _the_ courier. The courier from the Lucky 38. The courier who's known for running all over the place with a Followers doctor, a little European thug, and some gunslinging ghoul... and you have an NCR sniper in your little gang, too, am I right? Quite the posse you've put together."

"Well, actually, our sniper quit on us," Arcade replied. "Stubborn guy. Didn't agree with our insurance policy. Said he wouldn't stay unless we provided dental-"

 _THUNK._

The other guard punched Arcade in the jaw, nearly knocking his glasses off.

"The next time you interrupt me, I'm putting a bullet in your foot, and we can have our nice long conversation while you're bleeding all over my floor," Andrew threatened.

"O-okay, noted," Arcade replied. "Shutting up now."

As the conversation carried on, Niner found himself alone downstairs.

"Doctor man?" Niner said, peering around the room. "Six? Doctor man? Where y'all at? I couldn't get into the girls' bathroom... some Omerta guy kicked me in the shin..."

Sandra and Arcade weren't at the bar, and they were nowhere to be seen in the crowd. Niner wandered around, glimpsing down the hallways and poking his head into the casino room, but he couldn't find his friends anywhere. When he returned to the bar, he noticed that the door in the corner was no longer being guarded. He glimpsed around, making sure that nobody was watching, and he slipped through the door, tip-toeing up the stairs and reaching the manager's floor. There were pool tables on this floor, but nobody was using them. To his right, there were two offices. One of them was empty, and the door was standing open. The other one was closed, and Niner was able to hear muffled voices from inside.

Niner crept over to the office, pressing his ear to the door and listening closely to whoever was inside.

Andrew leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk and resting his chin on his hands. "Let's try the polite way first. I'm a Christian man. My ma always told me to do everything outta love, be a gentleman, be polite... so... tell me. Where can I find your little redheaded friend?"

"I..." Arcade started. "I really couldn't tell you."

Niner blinked. When he heard Arcade's voice, he pressed his back against the wall and sat on the floor, pulling up his pant legs and grabbing the 22 pistol he had strapped to his leg. He retrieved the silencer that he had strapped to the other leg and attached it to his gun, slowly reached his feet, and positioned himself beside the door, his gun held high and his ears perked up.

Andrew grimaced. "Alright..." He pulled open his desk drawer and revealed a large combat knife, standing from his chair and glaring down at Arcade. "Now let's try that not-so-polite way."

"W-w-well, see, now, you really don't wanna do that," Arcade said quickly. "I... I really don't know where she is, so you'd be carving me up for nothing. You wouldn't wanna do that, would you? It'd ruin your nice chair cushions... not to mention, it'd stain your floor... and... y-your customers really wouldn't wanna hear all the screaming..."

Niner pushed the office door open, holding his gun behind his back.

Andrew glimpsed up at him. The guards spun around, facing Niner.

"Hey, take it easy," Niner said. "I jus' came up to tell y'all that you're out of malt liquor. And I think one of your hookers gave me the clap. Who do I talk to about suing your asses?"

The guard to Niner's left began to raise his gun. That was Niner's cue; he raised his 22 and fired off two shots. The bullets implanted in the guard's forehead.

Arcade lunged at the other guard, yanking the shotgun from his arms with all his might. Niner shot the man thrice, and he hit the ground with a heavy _thumpf_ _._

Andrew stepped backward, his back hitting the wall, his knife hanging by his side. Arcade and Niner aimed their guns at him.

"You... you smuggled a gun in here?" Arcade asked Niner.

"Are you serious, man?" Niner replied. "Course I did. The freakin' syndicate works here. You think I'm gonna walk in here without a gun? Are you crazy?"

"Alright, point taken."

"Yeah. And where's Six?"

"I don't know," Arcade said. "And I don't think he knows, either. He wanted me to give her up. But the thing is..."

Arcade inched closer, the barrel of the shotgun looming dangerously close to Andrew's face.

"The bartender told me she walked off with a guy in a suit," Arcade stated. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Maybe she just wandered off with some random gambler," Andrew shrugged. "Lots of guys are huntin' for pussy in here. Maybe your friend's just a whore."

Arcade thrust the gun forward, making the barrel ram into Andrew's forehead. Andrew fell into his chair, rubbing is head and laughing into his lap.

"You're laughin' an awful lot for a dead man," Niner said, aligning his gun with Andrew's temple.

"Now, let's not do anything rash," Arcade told Niner. "He might have some useful information for us. Andrew, could you tell us who's really calling the shots here? Whoever it is, I bet he'd know where my friend went."

"Yeah, right," Andrew cackled. "Like I'm really gonna tell you..."

"Let me rephrase that..." Arcade said. "If you don't tell us, you're gonna die in that chair. But if you _do_ tell us, we're gonna find the guy, and we're gonna kill him... which will leave you, alone, managing all the business in Gomorrah with no syndicate interference. That's more money in your pocket. And you'll even get to walk away with your life intact. So... you can die here and now, or you can live and rake in all the caps for yourself, and _you'd_ be calling all the shots, not the syndicate. What's it gonna be?"

Andrew raised his eyebrows. "Well... ain't you the brightest brainiac in the Mojave."

"It's my superpower, what can I say," Arcade replied smugly.

"A'ight... you didn't hear this from me," Andrew said, lowering his voice. "The guy ordering the syndicate around nowadays is a fella named Mr. K."

"Mr. K?" Niner asked. "What's that stand for?"

"Dunno," Andrew answered. "Nobody knows. And listen... he's only in town for a few days at a time. He usually don't come out here. But... when Zimmer died... he made it a priority. He was closer to Zimmer than anyone... like a father to him, really. He, uh... he likes to deal with people who cross him personally. Sometimes real slowly. His favorite thing to do... is take his enemies to the roof... and make 'em fly. So... if he's found your little friend already... she's gonna be splattered on the Vegas strip pretty soon."

"Where can we find him?" Arcade asked.

"Third floor," Andrew informed. "Or... he might already be on the roof."

Arcade and Niner rushed out of the room and headed for the stairs. They ventured up to the third floor and moved to the south side of the building where the suites were, hoping to find the staircase leading to the roof so they might head Mr. K off. When they reached what must have been the fifth staircase, they ran into a suited man with a pre-war hat. Niner brushed by him, but Arcade recognized him instantly.

Arcade grabbed Vulpes by the collar, slammed him against the wall, and used his free hand to bury the barrel of his shotgun into his stomach.

Vulpes let out a hoarse laugh. The shotgun was nuzzling his bullet wound uncomfortably, but he didn't show it.

"Oh... why am I not surprised to find you here," Arcade growled. "If anyone was involved with the syndicate, it'd be you."

"You damn fool," Vulpes snarled. "Your precious courier is in peril, and you're screwing everything up."

Arcade glared at him, remembering everything Boone had said before he left. Was this the person Sandra was seen with? She was with Vulpes? And now... Vulpes was talking about her as if he knew something that no one else did, as if something was going on that Arcade didn't know about. Sandra couldn't have really been conspiring with this Legionary, could she? Was Boone right all along?

"Where's she at?" Niner asked. "Wha's going on?"

Arcade and Vulpes glared furiously through each other.

"I'd be happy to tell you," Vulpes growled irritably. "As soon as you get your filthy hands off my suit."

Arcade snapped his hand away from Vulpes, but he didn't lower his gun.

"Upstairs," Vulpes said. "The current syndicate leader is escorting her up to the roof."

* * *

When Sandra left the hotel room, she walked the halls in silence for a while, mulling over her thoughts and muttering under her breath.

"Asshole..." she hissed. "All I'm trying to do is help, and he blows up on me... crazy fuck... like it's my fault that the Legion are assholes..."

The longer she walked, the more she thought about her friends. She wanted to find Arcade and Niner, to make sure they were alright, but she couldn't deviate from her plan now. Soon, Vulpes would be tailing her, and they might just have an opening to take out the bastards in charge of Zimmer's outfit... whoever they were...

 _I hope he's not too mad at me,_ Sandra thought, remembering the look on Vulpes' face. _He might just let me get captured and let the syndicate do away with me..._

After about ten minutes of walking, three suited men turned around the corner. Two of them looked the same, wearing the dark blueish suits and hats that Sandra remembered from all the goons she'd fought at St. Peters. The man in between them was clearly the one in charge; he had an aura of power about him, his suit pinstriped just like Zimmer's had been, his white hairs slicked back and lying over his neck, his narrow face wrinklier than Zimmer's, his eyes a cold silver color. The man pocketed his hands, surveying Sandra up and down and letting out a faint laugh.

Sandra stood before him, saying nothing.

"Goodness... how hideous," Mr. K said. "I don't think a dress like that suits you, my dear. It's far too... exposed. All those scars... you look like wasteland scum in a stolen dress."

Sandra shrugged. "I'm proud of my scars. This one is from fighting the entire Enclave," she said, holding up her wrist and showing off the burn mark. "This one is from being shot in the head by a sleazy casino chairman like you," she pointed to the small diamond-shaped scar on her forehead. "And this one is from Zimmer... right before I killed him." She turned, revealing the relatively fresh scar that started on her shoulder and slithered down her arm. "All the people who've tried to kill me, and I still make it out alive somehow. So, naturally, I'm not scared of you."

Mr. K frowned. "Then you must not know who I am. I don't hold very many things close. I'm not a sentimental man. So... when I _do_ have something that I treasure... and when someone like you takes it away... do you know what I do to people like you?"

"Yeah, and a lot of people have tried," Sandra told him. "But nobody's managed to take me down yet."

"You killed someone that I considered family," Mr. K said, stepping forward. "I don't take that lightly, little girl."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have done it if he would've left us alone," Sandra retorted. "To be fair, he killed my friend and he was trying to kill me. The only reason we killed him was because we wanted to get out of that mess alive. It was defense."

"It was selfishness," Mr. K replied. "You were given warnings. You were told not to pursue the stash that rightfully belonged to Zimmer, yet you continued trying to steal it out from under him. You and your friends should have walked away when you had the chance. What would you do to someone who threatened to take your livelihood away? I suspect you wouldn't do anything different. You would've done exactly what Zimmer did. You would have sent a message, killing anyone who dared cross you. In fact... you've _been_ doing that for a while now. You're like a ghost story... an urban legend in the Mojave. You've killed more than Zimmer would have even considered."

"I've spared more than he would have considered sparing, too." Sandra glared at him. "I've spared people who tried to kill me. I've saved people. I'm rebuilding the Mojave one piece at a time, and sometimes, it gets bloody, but that's not my fault. It's assholes like you, who insist that everything has to resort to violence and dominance. _You're_ the ones to blame. Not me. Maybe I have killed more than Zimmer, but if I have, it's only because I'm trying to protect the people out there who're actually worth a damn. And that doesn't include a syndicate full of crooked asswipes like you."

"Good to know where you stand," Mr. K said. "You've saved me quite a lot of time, effort, money, and manpower by coming here... so, let's get this show on the road. Come with me. Let's have a look at the view."

His two bodyguards grabbed Sandra and forced her down the hallway. Sandra silently prayed that Vulpes was tailing her like he was supposed to be.

Mr. K pulled out a pistol and jammed it into her back, shoving her forward. The four of them took the stairs. Mr. K opened the door leading to the roof and pushed Sandra outside, following her with his two bodyguards close by. The lights of Vegas brightened the night wonderfully, shining like manmade stars beneath the clear evening sky. But Sandra didn't have the time to appreciate its beauty; Mr. K was pushing her closer and closer to the roof's edge.

"Step on the edge," Mr. K ordered. "Go on."

Sandra tried not to look down, the wind shifting her bangs and the bottom of her dress as she slowly stepped onto the roof's edge, her heart pounding, her hands beginning to shake. She cautiously turned to face Mr. K, careful not to lose her balance on the ledge, and her eyes fixed on the open door to the roof, but she couldn't see anyone. Vulpes was supposed to follow her up here, to come in at the last second and to eliminate the threat of the syndicate before they could kill her... but he wasn't here.

"I think you know what to do next," Mr. K uttered menacingly.

Sandra gulped. "Y'know... for an ominous crime lord... you're pretty stupid. I have friends. You're not the only one with connections. If you kill me, you're gonna have people after you."

Mr. K chuckled. "That's adorable. You think your little band is something comparable to my organization?"

"I know it is," Sandra replied. "Friends, robots, associates... I've got a lot of manpower on my side."

"So did Zimmer," Mr. K growled. "You reap the consequences of harming someone with after-death insurance."

"I'm not gonna jump," Sandra told him. "You'll have to shoot me."

 _BANG, BANG._

Sandra snapped her eyes shut, bracing herself for the pain, hoping that she wouldn't accidently slip and fall to her death...

Mr. K's two guards hit the ground.

Vulpes emerged from the doorway, holding his revolver upright. He almost fired a third time, but Mr. K had Sandra at gunpoint. If he were to take the shot now...

"Don't you dare," Arcade snapped, shoving past Vulpes and holding up his shotgun. Niner was close behind the doctor.

"No sudden movements," Mr. K said calmly, pressing the pistol into Sandra's stomach. "You're all a bit more competent than I expected. I'll give you that."

Vulpes, Arcade, and Niner had their guns on Mr. K, but no one fired. Sandra was only a hair away from falling off the side of the building.

Mr. K shifted his focus to each of them, and when his eyes landed on Vulpes, he grinned.

"You look a little pale, Mr. Fox," Mr. K said. "What's the matter? Trouble at home?"

Vulpes glared silently at him.

"I considered it something of an honor when such a high-ranking Legionary came to me for help," Mr. K told him. "Lucius, I think his name was. Good man. He had a good eye for weeding out weakness in his tribe. But of course, the cunning little fox thought to track down his assassins rather than going back home to face his dysfunctional little family."

"And here you are, outgunned and outnumbered," Vulpes sneered in response. "I think my plan came together well."

Mr. K's eyes remained on Vulpes. While the frumentarius kept the crime lord distracted, Arcade was taking a few careful side-steps, inching closer and closer. Arcade met eyes with Sandra, giving her a nod. Sandra replied with a thumbs-up.

Mr. K started to turn his head, but then, Niner grabbed his attention.

"Oy, big man," Niner called out. "You know how Zimmer died?"

Mr. K narrowed his eyes at Niner.

"He died at the ass end of a shotgun," Niner told him.

"So?" Mr. K said. "What's your point?"

"Nuttin' really. I just thought it was ironic."

 _BANG._

Sandra smacked the pistol away, and within the same second, Arcade fired off a shot. Mr. K fell to his knees, his chest pouring blood through the massive hole in his suit.

Just then, Sandra lost her footing. She wavered and wobbled, and Arcade grabbed her by the arm, yanking her away from the roof's edge.

Vulpes strode forward and grabbed Mr. K by the scruff of the suit, dragging him to the edge where Sandra was moments ago. Mr. K was resisting him with all his might, but as his body lost more and more blood, his strength left him, and Vulpes was able to dangle him halfway over the edge with little effort.

"Nice try, old man," Vulpes snarled. "Have a nice flight. Vale."

At that, Vulpes heaved the man forward and threw him over the edge. Seconds later, everyone heard a sickening, bone-crunching _splat_ on the pavement down below, followed by the startled screams and cries of the gamblers on the street.

For a while, none of them spoke. The frantic shouting from the streets below echoed just within earshot, and the door to the roof was standing open, letting a faint stream of music float into the atmosphere from Gomorrah's speakers. _"One down, one to go... just another bullet in the chamber... sometimes, love's a loaded gun..."_

"Whew... okay..." Sandra breathed. "That was close..."

"We're not done yet," Arcade said, advancing on Vulpes and holding up his shotgun. "Any last words, Mr. Fox?"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second!" Sandra stood in front of Arcade's gun, covering the end of the barrel with her hand. "What're you doing?!"

"I'm making sure we're never tailed again," Arcade told her. "We've spared him one too many times now. Enough is enough."

Vulpes crossed his arms and glared fearlessly at Arcade. Arcade scowled at him.

Sandra stood in between them, shaking her head. "Don't."

"Sandra," Arcade said in a low voice, one of forced calmness. "This person is-"

"I know what he is," Sandra replied. "I don't care."

"Oh, you don't care?" Arcade scoffed. "You don't care that he's genocided whole societies of people? You don't care that he's orchestrated some of the cruelest creative murders ever conceived by a human being? You don't care that he's a direct threat to everything we've been trying to accomplish? No... I let him live once already, and that was only because I had to. Not again."

"I could understand Boone... but you?" Sandra said. "I thought you valued human life."

"Yes, well, in his case I'll make an exception," Arcade replied. "Move, Sandra."

"No."

"Sandra, get out of the way."

"No."

"He's a monster."

 _"I'm_ a monster!" Sandra shouted. "You think he can't change? You really think he can't do better?"

"I _know_ he can't," Arcade said coldly.

Vulpes let out a grunting laugh.

"Then shoot me too, because we're both monsters." Sandra wrapped her hand around the shotgun, pressing the barrel into her own chest.

"Sandra... stop it. You're being ridiculous."

"No I'm not! If you think he can't change, then you might as well kill both of us, because I've done all the same kind of shit he has!" Sandra fumed. "You wanna know what happened in Denver? There were settlers... scavengers... people who were helping me, and you know what I did? I killed them. Every last one of them. I nuked them. Some of them died instantly, and others... I watched them whither away. Burning to death. Crushed under the debris. Their skin melting. Their hair burning off. They were screaming, and howling, and crying... and I laughed. I _laughed_ at their sorry asses."

Arcade's mouth fell open in astonishment. Vulpes smirked.

"Yeah," Sandra nodded. "That's right. So, shoot me. I'm a goddamn monster. But you know what? After all the people I've saved, all the shit I've done for you, and Niner, and Raul, and Boone... after stopping another holocaust all by myself in the Divide? After bringing down the syndicate? After bringing down Caesar? After everything I've done for this whole fucking Mojave, I think I deserve to fucking live! And if it wasn't for Vulpes, I'd still be locked up in a slave pen somewhere! So, if you don't wanna believe in second chances, then go right ahead. Fucking kill us. Go ahead and do it. But I think it'd be a goddamn waste."

Arcade stared at her, biting is lip and looking like he might throw up.

"You..." the doctor murmured. "You're really not who I thought you were."

"Neither are you," Sandra stated.

They went silent. Niner watched uncomfortably from a few feet away, not knowing what to do. Vulpes didn't look away from Arcade, even for a second. Sandra stared at Arcade as well, waiting for him to either lower his gun or pull the trigger, and she kept her hand coiled around the barrel, just to make sure he couldn't shift his aim. Tension filled the air, carried through the cool Vegas breeze on the lyrics of the music echoing from the open door. _"Red light, stop and go... whatcha' gonna do when you play with danger... sometimes, love's a loaded gun... and it shoots to kill..."_

"Fine," Arcade said. "Good luck in your endeavors."

Then, Arcade spun around and stormed away. He returned to the staircase and slammed the door shut behind him.

Niner gave Sandra a conflicted look.

"Go after him, please?" Sandra asked. "Look after him for me... at least until he gets his panties out of a knot."

Niner watched her hesitantly, then followed after Arcade, leaving the rooftop.

Sandra sighed and turned to Vulpes.

"That wasn't necessary," Vulpes told her.

Sandra gazed down at her feet, letting out a long, disappointed breath.

"Yeah..." she mumbled. "I think it was."


	25. Reprisals & Reformation

Arcade didn't return to the Lucky 38 on the night of the syndicate's demise.

Sandra went to her suite, collected a large sum of Bradley's stash, and took the elevator to the penthouse. Vulpes was with her, though he wasn't sure why he was. He had nowhere else to go, and Sandra was the only person offering him a way out of his predicament. Perhaps that was all the reason he needed.

Sandra stepped out of the elevator, and Vulpes hesitantly followed, peeking out from under the rim of his hat and surveying the tall, bulky robots that were guarding the place. The glass walls displayed a fantastic overview of the wasteland, and that was a clear indicator of where they were; they were at the top of the tower. Vulpes' stomach turned. He wasn't accustomed to all this technology, and being up so high above the rest of the world was even more unsettling. Fighting and planning for battles were his strengths. Technology and heights? Not so much.

"Well, well, well..." Mr. House said. Vulpes jumped when he heard the booming voice and spotted the gigantic face on the computer's massive monitor. "Look who's back from her little field trip. You look a little overdressed to be running all over the desert. Where, pray tell, have you been? Have you located the Brotherhood of Steel yet? I'm growing impatient."

"So am I," Sandra rumbled, pulling a terminal from the wall and clacking away on its keyboard.

"What... what are you doing?" Mr. House asked.

"Something I should have done forever ago," Sandra groused in response. "I was out doing courier jobs, Mr. House. You just don't pay me enough to live off of. Lucky me, I ended up helping someone find their father's hidden Enclave stash. Got my hands on some gold. I'm gonna use it for good... but I can't rebuild Freeside on that money alone. Eventually, that money's gonna run out. I need a steady source of income. Like yours."

"N-now, listen, if you want money... I can provide that-"

"It's not just about the money. You don't care about anything except keeping your precious Vegas jewel clean. All you care about is keeping the routine that's providing you caps. Do you know how many people are starving right outside of your walls?"

"You fool! If you want me to give charity, then let's discuss it in your payment plan! We can work something out!"

"Nah. It's easier if I just kill you."

"You moron! You've no idea what you're doing! Years of planning... of structuring... you're ruining everything!"

"Sorry," Sandra said emptily, shooting a cold glare at the computer's face. "I'm just not in the mood to care."

Sandra opened the secret door leading to Mr. House's control room, and vulpes followed her. They took the elevator to a new location, a dingier place than the rest of the Lucky 38, containing a single catwalk and a variety of electronics. Sandra and Vulpes crossed the catwalk and reached the pod where Mr. House lay. After thumbing through a programmer's digest, Sandra was able to program the chamber to open. A wide table extended from the chamber, revealing a very ancient, emaciated old man who was hooked up to the machine from every orifice.

"My, my..." Vulpes muttered. "Such vanity your technology can provide..."

"Why..." Mr. House croaked in a throaty, sickened voice that sounded entirely different from the voice he used on his monitor. "Why... have you... done this..."

"Because I don't like you," Sandra said. "And honestly, I think I can do better."

"Fool... you let... such a petty thing... cloud your judgment..."

"Petty? Did you hear the part about me doing a better job than you? You've been at this for over two-hundred years, and there're still people starving in Vegas. It's time for someone else to take the wheel."

Mr. House went quiet, his old body twitching, his eyes void of feeling.

"Nighty night, Mr. House," Sandra said, fiddling with the computer again and initiating a reset program. Arcade had once told her that Mr. House's cryo chamber would keep him entirely safe from germs and other outside threats, and resetting the machine after exposing him to the air would likely cause a lethal effect.

It was true. The machine sparked up, looking like it was going to retract Mr. House once more, but then, a burst of electricity erupted from the platform where Mr. House lay, and his body began to explode in small bursts, his leg blowing up into a mess of leathery skin and blood, his neck bursting open and leaving a gaping, bloody hole. Mr. House lie dead on the table of his cryo pod, and Sandra walked away from his corpse.

"So..." Vulpes said on their way back to the casino floor. "Finally taking the initiative, are you..."

"Yeah," Sandra replied. "Arcade is gonna understand that I can do all this without him. I thought I needed him for this, but.. well, what do I know? I thought he was such a good person, talking about helping people all the time, taking the diplomatic route to solve every problem... but when it comes to the Legion, his judgment is totally fogged up. He won't give anyone the benefit of the doubt."

"Yes, he's a fool, I know," Vulpes told her. "Now... would you mind telling me where we're going?"

"Freeside," Sandra informed. "We're gonna do everything that Arcade's been _talking_ about doing ever since I met him... and we're gonna do it without his help."

"Sounds delightfully pointless..." Vulpes sighed. "What's the goal? Who are we up against?"

"No one," Sandra responded. "This isn't a battle. It's..."

She turned to him, noting the lost look on his face.

"You know what?" Sandra said. "It's something you need to learn. Rebuilding a society instead of destroying it. It's definitely not pointless; it's a lesson in humanity."

* * *

The restoration project began with the removal of the strip's main entrance.

Sandra kept the securitrons guarding the entrance to Vegas, but she thought it better to remove the wall separating the strip from the slums of Freeside. It was the first step of removing the very visible line between the two classes of people which Mr. House had worked hard to preserve. It meant that hobos and other lowlives would have access to the strip, but Sandra didn't feel the need to worry about it. After all, any thieves or muggers would be dealt with by the securitrons.

Part of the wall remained standing, but the gate itself was deconstructed by a few Freesiders looking for work, and Sandra was more than willing to pay them for their hard work. Afterwards, she had the gates inside the strip torn down. She always found them ugly and unnecessary, and the strip wasn't really a 'strip' as long as all the junky walls were there.

These tasks lasted for about two days. Sandra caught Niner in passing, and Niner told her that Arcade had recently left for Westside from the Mormon Fort. "He ran off to help the Followers get some water to Westside. I thought he'd swing by before he left," Niner had said. "Guess he didn't wanna talk to us. Still pissed off, I s'pose. Bloody wanker."

Sandra didn't care. She continued to drag Vulpes through Freeside, hiring the hungry and the homeless and paying them a fair wage for their efforts. She struck a deal with the King, which would allow Pacer to run a bar in the alley of Freeside, and some of the kings would help him run the place or work as bouncers. When Sandra found a gigantic abandoned restaurant sign reading; **Rita's Cafe,** she thought to open a real cafe in Freeside on the corner leading to the NCR's slop house. If the NCR wanted to keep their food to themselves, that was perfectly fine. Sandra found Heck Gunderson in the Ultra Luxe and made a deal with him, meaning that whatever restaurants or bars she opened in Freeside would be supplied with plenty of meat and crops. Sandra would serve exclusively to Vegas citizens, and if the NCR didn't like it, they could shove it. She figured she'd serve the soldiers if they ever found themselves starving, but with their military hoarding all the food, she doubted that would happen.

But the biggest part of the project was establishing the apartment complex. Freeside didn't need another hotel; it needed real homes, places for the homeless to call theirs. The residents of Freeside worked their fingers to the bone as they built their own home, renovating one of Freeside's old buildings, and Sandra paid them well for it. She was paying them to build themselves a home, and when they were finished, they'd have money to refurbish it and fill their new refrigerators with food. Not to mention, Sandra was working on her own room in the complex on the top floor, meaning she'd always have a home in Freeside whenever she didn't want to be bothered by the business in Vegas. It was a win-win-win.

About a week and a half after Arcade's departure, Pacer's bar was in business, as was Rita's Cafe (though none of the staff were called Rita). Pacer named his bar The Jailhouse, and he had Angelo, an artist from the strip, design a flashy blue-and-purple neon sign to go above the entrance. The Freeside residents were bustling with talk and work, swapping positive opinions on what Sandra called "The Courier's Reformation Project," and they ran in and out of the apartment complex, carrying beds, rugs, and other articles of furniture inside. Sandra was downstairs in the lobby, wondering what else she could add to her own room. Vulpes sat with his arms crossed on a nearby couch, looking extremely bored and sighing loudly at each profligate passerby.

"Mr. Fox!" a child's voice squeaked. Vulpes turned his head, and he spotted a skinny, scraggly haired boy darting up to him.

Julie had just entered the complex, followed by another Followers doctor and the child that Vulpes had met when he first arrived to Freeside.

"You look a lot better!" Conor exclaimed. "Did you heal up?!"

Vulpes hid under the rim of his hat.

Sandra watched, folding her arms and smirking at them.

"Did you try the new cafe yet?! They have brahmin burgers!" Conor said excitedly. "We should go get one! Julie's been paying me caps to take mail to Vegas! Isn't that cool?! I have a job! I'm a courier! Just like you!" He turned to Sandra and gave her an enthusiastic wave. "Hi, Courier!"

"Hey kiddo," Sandra replied. "How do you know Foxxy?"

"Don't you _dare_ call me Foxxy," Vulpes grumbled.

"I met him at Julie's fort!" Conor told her. "He was hungry! I remember! He was _sooo_ hungry!"

"Yeah, I remember that too," Sandra snickered. "You'd think he just escaped from the Legion or something, the way he was eating."

Vulpes shot her a nasty look.

"Oh, yeah! I was hungry too when I ran away from the Legion!" Conor said.

Sandra's smile faded.

"Come on, Conor," Julie said. "Dr. James will show you to your new home."

The other Followers doctor took Conor by the hand and led him up the stairs. Julie watched them go, wearing a solemn smile.

"Poor kid," she muttered. "He deserves better than living on his own..."

"He won't be on his own," Sandra assured. "Not here. Everyone's gonna be a community here."

"Yeah... you're right about that. We can't thank you enough for all you're doing here," Julie said.

"Nah, I'm not doing much. The Freesiders are doing all the work. I'm just shelling out caps," Sandra replied. "It's worth it for all this progress."

"His sister..." Vulpes mumbled.

Sandra and Julie faced him.

"The boy had a sister," Vulpes said. "He shouldn't be living 'on his own' here. He has a sister. Yes?"

Julie frowned.

"He... doesn't have a sister now," she said. "His sister... Jamie... she ran out to the Wrangler one night, didn't tell any of us before she left. Conor told us that she was going there to get them both some Nukacola. But... that was over a week ago. No one has seen her since. We've looked for her all over. Asked the twins at the Wrangler about her... but they haven't seen her either. They told us that she never showed up to the Wrangler."

"Do you think she's still..." Sandra said. "Y'know..."

"Sadly... the way the town's been lately..." Julie replied. "I don't think she's alive, or if she is... she's being held somewhere against her will..."

"What do you mean, the way the town's been lately?" Sandra asked. "I thought everything was getting better."

"Well... not everybody in Freeside has been taking the jobs that you've been advertising for," Julie informed. "Some of them... they're really upset about it."

"What? Why?"

"Because they know how you got the money, and they think you're being stingy with it, offering to pay people to work when you got the money for free..."

"I busted my ass for that money! I almost died for it! And I'm paying these people to fix their own town! To give them a place to live, and food to eat, and-"

"I know, I know. But they don't see it that way. They think you should just be handing out the caps for free, the way you got them."

"You see what happens when you try to help people?" Vulpes said. "You give them a solution, and they want a handout."

Sandra scowled at him.

"It's also the matter of the chems shortage," Julie added. "The Wrangler twins have been supplying us with medical chems, which shortened the supply that they offer to their addicts. And now, with everyone taking on this reforming attitude... some of the addicts are seeking rehab, and the dealers aren't dealing chems anymore because they've found more honest work with you. So... the thugs in Freeside are angry about the caps, and they're not getting their drug fixes anymore, either. Now, they're fiending. They're getting crazed. That's one of the reasons I came here, actually... I wanted to warn you, before..."

"Before what?"

"Before they tried something," Julie said seriously. "The thugs are forming a gang, something to rival the Kings, in a way. They've been calling themselves the Freedom Fighters... which I think is pretty backwards. And... they've been talking about..."

"Talking about what?" Sandra asked impatiently.

"Talking about robbing you blind and killing you," Vulpes stated. "It sounds like you're the object of their hatred, and they blame you for everything that's wrong with their worthless lives. So... they're probably planning to kill you."

Sandra gave Julie an expectant look. Julie nodded.

"It's true," Julie mumbled gravely. "They... they've been talking up a big game about coming after you. So... I wanted to tip you off. Maybe you should hire some protection. Don't you have other friends? What happened to them?"

Sandra shook her head. "They're not with me right now."

"Not even Niner? He struck me as the brawling type. He could help you."

"He's in Vegas with Raul right now. They're keeping business secure in Vegas while I'm in Freeside."

"Oh..." Julie said. "Well... do you know anyone else who would make a good bodyguard?"

Sandra blinked, turning to Vulpes and raising her eyebrows at him. "Yup. Got the perfect guy."

Vulpes let out a low rumbling noise.

"You could probably use him, too," Julie mentioned, motioning towards Scar, who was crawling around on the lobby's countertop. Scar had grown to twice his original size, and his horns were beginning to come in. He was looking more and more like a deathclaw as the days went by.

"Yup. I've got two killing machines here," Sandra said, looking between Scar and Vulpes. "I'll be fine."

"Okay, well... Conor will be staying here in the complex, so... please, try and keep an eye on him too, will you?" Julie asked, her question more directed at Vulpes than Sandra.

Vulpes glared at her, saying nothing.

"We'll look after him," Sandra told her, glimpsing at Vulpes. _"Both_ of us will."

Vulpes growled under his breath again.

"Alright. He takes mail to the strip for me sometimes, but that's during the day. He should be fine doing that, as long as it's in the daylight. Just don't let him stay out for too long... and don't let him go out after dark. That's when the so-called Freedom Fighters are lurking about. His sister disappeared at nighttime, too. Nighttime is a dangerous time in Freeside."

"I getcha," Sandra said, giving Julie a lazy salute.

When Julie left the complex, Sandra went out the front door as well, gesturing for Vulpes to follow her. She took him across town to Mick n' Ralphs, and when they arrived, she went to the back and had a private conversation with Mick. Vulpes didn't bother asking what she was up to. He pocketed his hands and stood by the door, waiting for her to be done.

"Touched it up real nice for you," Mick said, handing Sandra a large rectangular box. "Scavenged a bit of this tech from a dead Brotherhood guy's armor. Might be a bit of Enclave tech in there too, depending on where the Brotherhood scavenged it from. Had a buddy of mine help me fix it up. He's better with this sciencey shit than I am."

"Did you engrave it?" Sandra asked him.

"Yeah, on the outer side, just like you asked," Mick replied. "Well, you paid enough for it, so... here it is. I hope it lives up to your expectations."

"It's not for me," Sandra said.

"Really? That's an awful lot of caps to spend on someone else. Who's it for?"

"A friend of mine. I can't really do melee and fist fighting all that well, so..."

"Ah, I see. Covering all bases, huh," Mick determined, glancing at the door where Vulpes stood.

"Yup. Thanks a lot," Sandra told him, turning and carrying the box over to Vulpes.

Vulpes eyed her oddly.

"Well? Open it," Sandra said, handing him the box.

"Why..." Vulpes mumbled.

"Because you'll like it," Sandra told him. "You're gonna be covering my ass while we're working on Freeside, so... I think you need it."

Vulpes opened the box hesitantly, and inside was a displacer glove, similar to Caesar's old one, but this one had been repaired and modified. The disc on the knuckles glowed a bright blue, and the hand was covered with a pointed guard, meant for protecting the knuckles. There were two small tubes connecting from the rear brace to the front one, and both of them shone the same bright color as the displacer disc. Vulpes lifted it up, and on the side, Mick had engraved the letters; **Ad Victorium.**

"Ad Victorium. I used to hear Arcade say that a lot. It's Latin," Sandra explained. "I think it means..."

"To victory," Vulpes muttered. He looked up from the glove, giving Sandra a peculiar squint. "Why are you giving me this?"

"Why not?" Sandra shrugged. "Come on. Let's go chill out at the apartment. We've been working all week."

They returned tot eh apartment complex and climbed up to Sandra's floor. Her room was the biggest in the complex, but that was mainly because she'd combined some of the rooms together, just in case she'd come here with her companions. There were five beds throughout the place, and hers was a queen-sized on near the largest window. In the center of the spacious apartment was a Nukacola rug, placed perfectly between her couch, her television, and her kitchen counter. She had an empty shelf on the wall, which she was determined to one day fill with Silver Shroud holodisks. From the ceiling hung an old chandelier, and only about half of the lights worked, but it lit the place well. All things considered, this place felt very homey, and that was all she cared about.

"I wonder if Conor has any movies..." Sandra uttered, tinkering with the television.

"Boy's got nothing to his name," Vulpes replied, plopping onto the couch and surveying the new displacer glove on his arm. "Not even food."

Sandra went to the kitchen and began heating a pot of water on her stove, wanting to make some molerat stew for supper.

"The door..." Vulpes said. "Did you think to put a lock on the door?"

"I'unno," Sandra mumbled.

"Careless..." Vulpes grumbled, standing and walking to the door. "Yes. There's a padlock. But it needs something stronger."

"Nobody's gonna come up here," Sandra told him. "We're on the top floor. They'd have to get through everybody else first."

"I'm not getting shot again just because you're careless," Vulpes quipped in response. "You need better security than this."

"Yeah, well, I've been kinda busy rebuilding the rest of the town from the ground up," Sandra replied. "I'll worry about the lock on my door tomorrow."

Sandra took some ingredients from the fridge and dropped them into the pot.

"Need to check on Conor..." she said. "Vulpes, will you go check on him for me?"

"No," Vulpes mumbled, spreading out on the couch. "I'm taking a nap."

Sandra spun around. "I'm trying to make us both some food. Go check on him for me."

"Boy's not my responsibility," Vulpes grumbled. "Don't volunteer me to babysit the orphans of this blasted cesspool. I couldn't care less about that child."

"Fine," Sandra huffed, pouring the pot of water into the sink and throwing the vegetables back into the fridge. "Then I don't care about making you supper. God, after the past two weeks, I thought you might've learned something..."

"Oh yes," Vulpes snarked. "I've learned that death is a better option than bunking with you. I should've let the assassins finish me off."

"Get out," Sandra snapped.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Get out. Go sleep outside. Sleep at the Mormon Fort. I don't care. Just get out."

"You can't just-"

"Yeah I can, it's my apartment. Get out. Don't come back until you learn some fucking manners." Sandra snapped her fingers and pointed at the door. "Out. Now."

"I thought you wanted me around to fight your little battles for you," Vulpes grouched. "Who's gonna be your bodyguard? Your little savage pet?"

Scar squeaked and crawled up Vulpes' leg. Vulpes pushed him away. Ever since Vulpes and Sandra came to Freeside, Scar had been sticking to him like glue. He seemed to remember Vulpes from the day he hatched.

"I can take care of myself," Sandra said. "Especially if you're gonna act like a dick. Get out."

"You... wretched... stupid... mouthy... little..." Vulpes grumbled a variety of insults on his way out the door. He slammed it shut as hard as he could, making one of Sandra's scavenged paintings fall off the wall.

Sandra turned on the radio, sat on the couch, and reloaded her shotgun. If anyone came looking for trouble, she'd take care of it. She didn't need Vulpes for that. She must've been naive to think that Vulpes would actually _want_ to help. Then again, it'd only been about two weeks since his exile from the Legion. Perhaps he simply needed more time. Sandra wondered if she had the patience for it...

Scar crawled into her lap and curled up. Ever since his horns started growing, his habit of sleeping on her became a bit more painful, but she didn't mind.

"Don't worry," Sandra said, petting Scar on the head. "He'll be back. Hopefully..."

The sunset bled into a brisk night, and darkness fell over Freeside. Vulpes stormed out of the complex, mumbling under his breath and marching off to God knows where. Where, exactly, was he supposed to go now? In this reprobate dump town, he had no allies to meet with, no safe houses, no stashes, and honestly, no reason to wake up in the morning. Each day rising from his cot in the Fort, he was greeting by a blazing sun and a new order from his Legion. He always had an objective, a destination, some goal to reach. But here? There was nothing. There were no tasks to complete, no plans to formulate, and no one to fight against. What was the point of it all? What was he supposed to do in this backwards society?

As Vulpes strolled angrily under the flickering street lights, he heard a scuffle nearby. He dismissed it at first, thinking that it was just another senseless brawl between the Kings and a local NCR soldier (as that happened a lot), but he heard a high-pitched shout, and he halted in his step. It wasn't the shout of a man, but it didn't sound like a female. No... it sounded like a child...

"I don't care," Vulpes growled to himself. "I. Don't. Care."

The shouts soon became cries, then hysterical sobs. Vulpes tried to march on, then came to a stop again.

"Like I care..." Vulpes hissed. "Profligate children. Orphaned children. Wretches, worthless wastes of human life... all of them..."

"No! Ple-e-ease... pleee-eee-eease...!" Conor sputtered madly from a nearby alleyway. "Pl-eee-eeease d-d-dooon't...!"

Vulpes turned his head.

A gang of three were trying very hard to drag Conor into the alleyway, but Conor was making it difficult for them. He kicked, screamed, threw punches, and continued to sob as he did. The thugs were all wearing the same bandanas. The bandanas were fashioned out of a cut-up old world flag. They were members of the Freedom Fighters.

"Take him," Vulpes mumbled, his heart thumping, his hands rolling into fists. "Take the stupid brat. I don't care. I. Don't. Care."

One of the thugs bashed a baseball bat into Conor's head, throttling him and making him go limp for a moment, but the child wasn't yet unconscious. Still, the gang was able to drag him into the darkness, and his cries bounced off the walls of the alley, echoing onto the street.

They reached the back of the alleyway, and one of the thugs lifted Conor from the ground, holding him by the collar of his dirty tank top. He held the boy over the edge of a dumpster, forcing him to look inside.

"Yeah, lookit there," the thug sneered wickedly. "This is what we do to stray brats around here, you little fucker."

Conor's eyes tore open, and he let out a wailing, panicked scream. Inside the dumpster was the naked and mutilated body of his sister, Jamie. Conor kicked and struggled against his captors, but that only served to tick them off more. The thugs threw him to a ground and took turns beating him, and even when Conor had stopped fighting against them, the Freedom Fighters didn't hold back.

Vulpes listened from the street. He rolled his neck and crackled his spine, rolled his eyes, and released a groaning sigh. He then sprinted into the alleyway, only to find the Freedom Fighters beating Conor to a bloody pulp on the pavement. One of them stomped their foot onto Conor's skull, bashing his little face into the concrete.

In Vulpes' earliest Legion days, he remembered when the Legionaries would treat him this way, but he never dwelled on it now. It was a sort of initiation, a respectable tradition to whip their young recruits into shape. Certainly it wasn't cruel. Certainly it wasn't abusive. Certainly it shouldn't have upset him to see it happening to someone else. It was necessary, after all. It was the only way to toughen a man up, preparing them for the hostilities of the wasteland.

So, naturally, it was strange to him when his stomach tightened at the sight of Conor's beating, and even stranger that it seemed to anger him. His displacer glove hummed by his side with an electric, hungry rumble. He opened and closed his fingers within the glove, aching to use it, longing to...

"Oh, that's enough! Give it a rest!" Vulpes hollered.

The Freedom Fighters all stopped and turned to him.

Conor was crying chokingly into a puddle of his own blood. Vulpes traded glimpses between the boy and the thugs.

"Big men you are. Typical behavior for reprobates like yourselves," Vulpes snarled. "Too spineless to grab someone off the streets who stands a chance at fighting back. Yet you're supposed to be the big bad tough guys of Freeside, are you? Well, come on then."

He held up his glove, tightening his hand into a fist. "Pick on somebody your own size."

"Fuck off," one of the thugs snapped. "The kid's a ransom for your whore courier. Bitch has enough money. She can pay to get his sorry little ass back."

"Oh, that'd be a waste..." Vulpes sniggered. "You? Getting paid for taking a brat hostage? I have a cheaper idea for you. How about I end your useless lives now, sparing everyone the headache of your worthless existence, and we all go about our merry way. Yes?"

The thugs backed away from him, two of them holding up their fists and the third one raising his bat.

Vulpes charged at them. "Oh, I've been waiting for this..."

One of the thugs swung his bat, and Vulpes deflected it with the back of his gloved arm. There was a burst of light, and the bat snapped in half. Vulpes' eyes widened. He hadn't realized how useful this sort of technology was. This displacer glove certainly sharpened his fighting abilities...

"What's goin' on here, what's goin' on here?!" one of the Kings shouted from the alley's entrance. The fight was attracting the attention of the Kings, but Vulpes ignored them.

The fox sprung forward, implanting his gloved fist into one of their skulls. Vulpes felt his fist hit the brick wall behind him; his punch, combined with the glove's power, had shattered the man's skull and bulldozed right through it Vulpes laughed as the blood rained over him, and he spun around, throwing bright blue punched at the others and laughing when their bodies crumbled under the awesome power of his supercharged blows. He killed the last remaining thug with a sharp punch to the chest, collapsing his bones and thrashing him into the wall. There was a sickening, bony slushing sound then the man bent over unnaturally, his torso caving in on itself.

The three Kings, accompanied by Pacer, all watched in awe until the one-sided showdown was over. Vulpes glared over his shoulder at them.

"What?!" the frumentarius barked.

"He-ell yeah!" Pacer smirked. "You're just a one man fuckin' army, ain't you?"

"Be off with you," Vulpes spat.

Pacer and the other Kings traded high-fives as they walked away, failing to realize that a young boy was lying in a puddle of blood on the pavement. Vulpes was left alone with Conor, standing over him in a looming, ominous way.

"Stupid boy," Vulpes said. "You were told not to go out after dark, were you not?"

Conor continued to cry into the ground. He didn't want to look at Vulpes. He didn't want to look at anybody. He was in an excruciating amount of pain, and he felt utterly ashamed.

Vulpes watched him. "Get up, boy."

Conor kept crying, not seeming to hear Vulpes.

"I _said,_ get _up."_ Vulpes hoisted him by the shirt and pulled him upward.

Conor cried even louder, refusing to look Vulpes in the face.

Vulpes stole a glance of the dumpster, only just realizing that there was a body inside. Conor's sister.

"So that's all she meant to you," Vulpes said. "Your sister died because she wandered off at night, and you think it's a brilliant idea to go and do the same exact thing that got her killed. You're not doing her any justice by getting yourself killed as well, boy."

Conor lunged at Vulpes and threw a series of weak punches at him. Vulpes felt the light brush of his handicapped hand smack him in the stomach, barely grazing his healing bullet wound. Three fingers. Not five.

Then, Conor nearly collapsed, clinging onto Vulpes and sobbing loudly into the front of his shirt, his little arms clamped around Vulpes' waist.

"Stop it, get off, you're staining my suit... boy! Get off me!" Vulpes tried to pry him off, but Conor wouldn't let go.

"D-d-don't... leave... me..." Conor blubbered pitifully into the stomach of his button-up. "D-don't... pl-ee-eease..."

Vulpes stared down at him.

"Pitiful... stupid... why, why, _why_ get involved? Why?" Vulpes whispered to himself, glaring up at the night sky. "Stupid, pitiful, stupid..."

"Mm... s-ooorry..." Conor cried. "Mm... sorry..."

Vulpes sighed.

Conor continued to cry into his suit. For nearly three minutes, Vulpes said nothing.

Then, he knelt in front of Conor, giving him a profound, intense look.

"You fought well," he said calmly. "Now... stop being an idiot. Stop going out after dark. Understand me, boy?"

Conor wiped his teary, bloody face with his arm, giving Vulpes a nod.

"Audentes fortuna iuvat," Vulpes said.

Conor blinked.

"It means, fortune favors the bold," Vulpes told him. "You fought against them. Therefore... you survived. But bold doesn't mean reckless. The next time, you may not be so lucky. Don't go blundering into dangerous situations without a second thought from now on."

Conor smiled weakly, trying to wipe off a blotch of blood from his forehead and smearing it across his face by accident. He wrapped his arms around Vulpes again, hugging him around the neck in a smothering embrace.

"Yes... well... fine, yes, whatever..." Vulpes grumbled, patting him on the back. "Get off me, boy. Your blood is getting all over my collar... my... alright, seriously, get off me..."

Vulpes escorted the boy back to the apartment complex, feeling a strange combination of misplacement and satisfaction as he did.

Perhaps there was purpose to this life, but it wasn't a purpose he'd ever considered before.

But it left a new feeling in him, something he'd never felt before. He felt good. And it wasn't the 'good' he'd feel when he took a life, when he crushed those thugs with his glove or when he'd tear his opponets apart with his ripper. This was a different kind of good. Something softer, something that was so childishly serene it made his stomach contort in disgust. Perhaps this was his reward, or punishment, for daring to live on after being exiled by the Legion. It was a bold move on his part, especially since he'd made the Legion into his sworn enemies.

"Hmph," Vulpes scoffed. "Fortune favors the bold, indeed..."


	26. Storm Clouds Gather

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Go away, Vulpes."

"Let me in, you insufferable woman..."

"Fuck off."

"Let me in now!"

"Go to hell."

"You blasted idiot! You wanted me to check on the boy, didn't you?! I've got him right here! Open the goddamn door already!"

Sandra, who was standing over a pot of boiling molerat soup, stopped and went to the door. When she opened it, her mouth fell open at the sight of Conor, who was shaken, battered, teary, and bruised. Vulpes pushed the boy into the apartment and closed the door behind him.

"What the fuck happened...?" Sandra gasped.

"The so-called Freedom Fighters happened," Vulpes told her. "Tried to get to you by beating up a child. Your typical profligate behavior."

Sandra sat Conor on the couch and went to work fixing him up. Vulpes sank into the cushions, sighing and folding his arms behind his head. Once Conor was all bandaged up, Sandra gave him a soda and turned on the television, playing the Silver Shroud. Conor sipped on his Nukacola and watched the program. Sandra went back to the kitchen to finish the soup, wearing a disturbed look as she hovered over the pot. She'd have to do something about the Freedom Fighters...

Vulpes fell asleep in a sitting-upright position, and soon after, Conor snuggled into Vulpes' side and drifted into a slumber. Sandra draped a blanket over the boy, her thoughts more and more troubling as the minutes went by. Unable to rest, Sandra left the complex and went to the House of Impersonation. The King and Pacer were up late tonight. That was a good thing.

"Well, lookie who it is," Pacer said. "Queenbee's here for a visit. Ain't seen you drop by in a while."

"Yeah, well..." Sandra replied, looking to the King. "About that favor you owe me..."

"Finally gonna ask, huh? Alright, ask away," the King said.

"The Freedom Fighters... have you heard of them?"

"Ah, yeah, new bunch of local junkies. Been causing a ruckus in the streets lately. What about them?"

"They just tried to kill a little kid," Sandra informed. "They beat him to a pulp. Almost killed him."

The King and Pacer both frowned at hearing this.

"Yeah, so... if you guys could do something about them, that's all I want from you," Sandra said.

"We'd be doing a favor for the Kings too, and all of Freeside while we're at it," the King said, trading mischevious glances with Pacer. "Keepin' the riff-raff in check is what the Kings are here for. We haven't been messin' with them Freedom Fighters 'cause they haven't given us a real reason to... until now. Nobody kills Freeside kiddos on my watch. Pacer... round up the boys. Let's hit the road. I think it's time the big boss man paid them small fries a visit."

* * *

The next morning, Sandra slept late.

Vulpes had woken up on the couch, instantly jumping to his feet when he realized that Conor was lying on his leg. Conor simply yawned and turned over. Around the time Vulpes woke up, Julie was making her way to the apartment complex from the Mormon Fort, but she was sidetracked by a ghastly sight at a nearby alleyway. The King, Pacer, and five other Kings members were standing over the bodies of the Freedom Fighters, smoking cigarettes and joking about their brawl as casually as ever. Julie gulped and marched away. When she reached Sandra's apartment, Vulpes answered the door.

"Um..." Julie said. "Is the courier here? I got a letter for her in the mail today. A caravan dropped it off at the fort."

"She's sleeping like a lazy wildebeest," Vulpes replied tonelessly.

"Well... here, give this to her for me, will you?" Julie asked, handing him an envelope. "Thanks."

Just when Julie left, Sandra appeared in the doorway of her bedroom, her hair screwed up and her tank top twisted crookedly around her body. She yawned, grabbing a Quantum from the fridge and inhaling half of it. Vulpes gave her the letter.

"Wha's this...?" Sandra moaned sleepily.

"Don't know," Vulpes replied. "The doctor woman said it was for you."

Sandra ripped the envelope open and skimmed over the sloppy handwriting.

 _Courier,_

 _You instructed me to message you VIA the Old Mormon Fort in Freeside if ever there was an emergency. I_

 _addressed this letter to Courier/Arcade Gannon, just as you asked, so I hope that it reaches you. I was_

 _certain that I wouldn't need your assistance again, but after the events that have transpired in New_

 _Canaan, I'm afraid I may need your help again. The Legion have been pushing closer and closer to_

 _Sorrows and Dead Horses' territories, and while the White Leg threat has been more or less eliminated,_

 _I worry that the Legion appearances may have rendered our efforts to hold New Canaan null and void. We_

 _were forced to abandon our home in the end, and we now reside parallel to another tribe in Nevada, those_

 _who call themselves the Great Khans. The Khans are heavily on guard, so I've been unable to strike any_

 _sort of peaceful arrangement with them. We've had a couple of misunderstandings, one of them leading_

 _to an accidental death. I was uncertain if you had any connections with the Great Khans, but you have_

 _more investment and knowledge of the Mojave than I. My people are running low on basic essentials,_

 _and I fear that the Legion will sniff out our presence here if we remain stationary for too long. If_

 _there is anything you can do, please assist us in any way that you can. God be with you._

 _-J_

"Oh shit..." Sandra muttered. "Joshua Graham."

Vulpes tensed up, looking like he might've been shocked for a split second before regaining his composure. He'd been trained not to speak the name Joshua Graham, and hearing the Legate's name spoken aloud sent a shiver down his spine as if he expected Caesar to burst into the room and slay the both of them.

"Why on earth is the Burned Man writing you?" Vulpes asked her. "Who are you to him? Have you known him this whole time? Even when you visited us in the Fort? If Caesar would've known..."

"He wouldn't have done shit if he knew," Sandra replied. "Whether he knew or not... Boone still woulda' blew his head off."

Vulpes gulped.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Vulpes moved to the window, observing as the sunlight became weaker, grayish-blue clouds overcoming the sky. A rumble of thunder echoed from outside. Sandra stood beside the Fox, gazing over Freeside, both of their minds racing.

"Storm clouds gather on the horizon," Vulpes muttered. "There's a massive storm coming, indeed. We all better be prepared when it does."

Sandra knew what he meant. Freeside was growing restless, as were the NCR and the Legion, and the tension had even reached Utah. Some day soon, a war would arrive on the doorstep of Vegas, and Sandra had found herself in a position of power that held her responsible for dealing with it. Now would have been a good time to turn to Arcade for guidance, to gauge his opinion and form a plan from there - but Arcade was gone. Vulpes made a great henchman, but he didn't have the same view of the Mojave as Arcade. In fact, Sandra doubted anyone had a perspective so enlightened it could challenge Doctor Gannon. Arcade would've been the person to ask for advice right now... but she'd have to figure it out on her own. Arcade wouldn't help her as long as she kept Vulpes around, and for some unexplainable reason, Sandra didn't want to get rid of Vulpes.

"What do we do...?" Sandra mumbled, wishing that Arcade could somehow answer her from where ever he was.

"We fight," Vulpes said simply. "The Republic and the Legion will stop at nothing to seize this place... and if you truly want to maintain it, you _will_ have to lead a war. There is no way around it."

Sandra thought on this. The army of Securitrons she'd awakened at the Fort would be a match for the Legion, and perhaps the NCR... but both of them at once? Did she have enough Securitrons to take on two fully-fledged factions alone?

"We need help," she decided. "We need all the allies we can get."

"You have your bots," Vulpes said. "You have the Kings. You have your friends. You have..."

"No, we need more than that," Sandra remarked. "This is a war. We need more than a little militia. We need everyone we can possibly get."

"You need to go expediting for recruitment contracts," Vulpes told her. "There are factions in the Mojave you've yet to make contact with. The Kahns, the Brotherhood..."

Sandra thought of the Lyon's Pride back in DC. She and her friends tried to find the western Brotherhood a while back, but they never succeeded. The only Brotherhood branch she knew she could rely on was clear across the country, and she knew absolutely nothing about the Great Kahns.

"Alright," Sandra said. "Conor can stay here while we're gone. We have to go by the shops and stock up. We'll go to Mick n' Ralph's first-"

"Hold on." Vulpes held up his hand. "We're leaving? Today? Right now?"

"Well, yeah," Sandra nodded. "We have to get started right now. We don't know when this war is gonna happen, and if we're gonna make alliances, we need to get moving asap."

Vulpes glared down at the carpet.

Sandra stared at him. "What's wrong?"

He met eyes with her, and she spotted a familiar flicker of fiery blue in his gaze. He only looked that way when he was angry or deep in thought.

"I'm betraying my Legion if I go with you," he said. "I can't."

"Foxxy," Sandra said, trying not to smile when Vulpes cringed at the nickname. "They've been sending assassins after you. We tried to save the Legion, and it just didn't work. If you go back to them, you're dead. At least with me you don't have to worry about anyone trying to stab you in the back."

"Oh no?" Vulpes replied. "Your little doctor friend tried to blow my head off, do you remember?"

"I know Arcade, and I know he won't lay a hand on you as long as you're on my side," Sandra told him. "He's not a violent person."

Vulpes grimaced, seeming unconvinced.

"Foxx-I mean-Vulpes." Sandra placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you wanna give me a chance, I'll look after you. You're still Legion. But you're with _my_ Legion now."

Vulpes gave her a strange look. _"Your_ Legion?"

"My Legion of misfit independents and robots," Sandra smirked. "It's my own personal army of freaks. It's the Courier Army."

Vulpes was silent for several seconds.

"What choice have I got..." he grumbled.

"Yeah, that's the spirit." She patted him on the arm. "Come on. We've got a big ass road trip ahead."

The two of them left the apartment with their bags, Scar scuddling along at their knees. Sandra felt hyped, rushed in a way she hadn't felt in almost five years. Last time she prepared for a war, she nearly got herself killed amidst laser fire and chem use. This time would be different; this time, she'd plan everything ahead of time instead of running in guns blazing, and she wouldn't lose her friends to another careless accident. The battle for Project Purity was narrowly a success - but the Battle of Hoover Dam would be a landslide victory. Nothing could stop her now.

After stocking up on ammunition, stims, and easily-packaged foods, Sandra and Vulpes prepared to leave through the east gate. Just when they turned the corner, however, they encountered something standing directly between them and their exit - a gun battle.

Kings, Freedom Fighters, and random Freesiders were lost in a scuffle around the gate. A few of them were letting off gunfire, and Pacer was attacking members of the Freedom Fighters with a baseball bat. Pacer and the King seemed to be fighting back-to-back, but the Freedom Fighters had more guns among them, and the Kings were falling on the street like dominoes.

"Son of a bitch..." Sandra swore, holding up her shotgun.

Vulpes' arm shot out in front of her. "Don't intervene. Not yet."

"But they're dying!" Sandra exclaimed.

"Yes, but the Freedom Fighters haven't noticed us yet," Vulpes reminded her. "As soon as you open fire, they'll turn their attack on us. We're perfectly exposed targets right now."

Sandra's teeth ground together. She hesitated, watching as the fight ensued, her stomach churning.

Pacer landed a hard strike on the skull of an enemy, and just then, the King took a bullet to the hip. He fell to his knees, and Pacer jumped even deeper into the crowd of brawlers in a rage. Sandra found it harder and harder to remain stationary.

Just then, the eastern gate eased open, and an unsuspecting caravan came through. It was a group of five travelers from Westside, accompanied by a brahmin carrying numerous empty sacks that once contained water - and walking beside the two-headed cow was a familiar figure, a white coat, a head of blonde hair, a pair of rectangular glasses...

Arcade marched into Freeside along with his fellow Followers, all of them freezing when they realized they'd stumbled into a gang war.

"Fuck it," Sandra said, charging forward and unleashing a barrage of 12 gauge rounds.

One body fell, then another, then another - and Sandra pressed on, marching through the crowd and ignoring the turning heads, the twisted expressions, the angry eyes that were all locking in on her. The Freedom Fighters focused on the courier, and Sandra tried not to feel the bullet grazing her on the leg or the laser burning her on the collar. Forward she marched, dropping one Freedom Fighter after another and making her way toward Arcade.

"Blasted fool..." Vulpes growled, leaping into the mayhem and launching supercharged punches at his foes.

Suddenly, the standoff that happened on the roof of Gomorrah disappeared from her mind, as did every word from the argument she'd had with Arcade. Now, all she cared about was reaching him, standing her ground in front of him, making sure that he'd get out alive...

 _This is familiar._

Charging in guns blazing, her body aching with a variety of injuries she didn't realize she had, Sandra became stranded in the heart of the battle. Her life flashed before her eyes - more vividly than anything, she remembered every time she'd landed herself in this situation before, diving into a horde of supermutants to save Charon... so many times, she did this for Charon... throwing her own life to the wind and risking everything just to see him...

 _This is way too familiar._

"San-" Arcade started, but he was interrupted by a penetrating gunshot. One of the Followers fell to the ground, and immediately, the remaining few sought cover behind their brahmin.

From the back of the battle, Vulpes fought his way through, and Arcade did the same from the front. Blue laser fire and explosions of cerulean light burst from either side each time Vulpes landed a punch or Arcade let off a shot. The King was kneeling wounded on the pavement, but he still returned fire with his pistol, and Pacer had all but given up. Then, the guards of the Mormon Fort flooded onto the streets, which gave the Freesiders the extra edge they needed. At once, the Freedom Fighters were losing the fight.

Arcade and Vulpes were ruling the fight now, and the Followers guards gave them plenty of backup. Out of nowhere, a Freedom Fighter emerged from behind a street light and whacked Vulpes on the back of the head with a tire iron. A splitting pain erupted through Vulpes' skull, his vision screwing up, his balance abandoning him.

"Dirty filthy proflig-"

The attacker tried to swing again - then, someone grabbed him by the hand.

Arcade yanked Vulpes away from the Freedom Fighter. Instantly, the doctor was standing less that a foot from the foe, too close to use his LAER, too close for comfort. His hand moved on its own, pulling the surgical saw from his side and thrusting the roaring blades into the attacker's stomach.

The Freedom Fighter screamed and gurgled. Arcade's coat and glasses quickly became stained in blood splatter. He jerked the surgical saw away, allowing the mangled attacker to fall to the ground.

Arcade panted, spitting the other man's blood from his mouth, his eyes wide with shock.

"A... Are you alright?" he gasped at Vulpes.

Vulpes merely stared at him.

Sandra's hand clamped onto Arcade's coat, her face flashing an insane smile. She spun around, gun at the ready and prepared to fight off the rest, but all of the Freedom Fighters now lay dead on the pavement. The fight was over.

"Haaah... see? I figured..." Sandra sputtered. "I figured we... the three of us would make a... good team... I knew it..."

Her knee buckled, and Sandra collapsed. Arcade caught her on the way down.

"Sandra... just stay still..." Arcade surveyed her. A red burn was fizzling the skin along her collar, and her leg was pouring blood. "God... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He went to work on her, first wrapping a discarded bandana around her leg, then disinfecting the laser burn at the base of her neck.

Vulpes stood over them both, saying nothing.

Sandra exhaled a few laughs. "You're so stupid... you think... you think I'm gonna be fine if you're not around...? You're stupid..."

"Yeah, I have a good track record of making stupid decisions in any kind of relationship," Arcade replied, attempting a smile. "You really _will_ get yourself killed if you're not supervised... God... what were you thinking?"

"Just..." Sandra sighed. "Wanted you to... be okay..."

Arcade hovered over her, a sparkle of sincerity in his emerald eyes. "Sandra..."

"Shhht... shut up..." Sandra groaned. "Don't ruin the moment..."

"No, Sandra, I'm sorry," Arcade said. "I shouldn't have been so judgmental. I'm sorry."

"Shht..."

"I really am. I'm sorry. I planned to come see you today... to tell you sorry in person. I didn't expect to reunite like this, though..."

"That's what you get... for being careless..."

"I was just helping the Followers transport some water to Westside. I didn't think it was a life-and-death sort of task."

"Heh... shows what you know..."

Sandra's eyes were drifting shut, and she felt like she wanted to fall asleep on the concrete, but she forced her eyes open and peered around. "Foxxy... where's Foxxy...? Is he okay...?"

"I'm here," Vulpes said. "Please stop calling me that."

Arcade snickered. "Foxxy, huh? So the Legion's most notorious frumentarius has devolved into _Foxxy?_ Oh, that... that's just marvelous."

Vulpes glared at him.

Arcade reached his feet, meeting Vulpes' eyes.

"I'm a bit surprised, honestly," Arcade said. "I'm surprised that you're still here. I thought you would've abandoned her by now."

"So did I," Vulpes grumbled.

Arcade scooped Sandra off the ground, carrying her like an overgrown infant. He looked to Vulpes again, his expression taking on a rather serious visage.

"I think we all need to talk."

* * *

Dogs.

Yapping, snarling, foaming, rampaging...

The dogs were the most prominent of Sandra's memories of Denver, but there was much more to the story than the diseased canines roaming the streets. The journey from DC was hellish at best. At first, it wasn't hard; Sandra found a caravan heading west and paid them a lump-sum of caps to take her along for the ride. Once she reached middle America, however, she found herself stranded with no friends, no map, and almost no money. So many days, she traveled. So many hours, she walked alone through the wasteland, turning to talk to Charon and bursting into tears when she remembered that he was no longer by her side, that he died a senseless death in the battle for Project Purity...

And as the days dragged on, Sandra felt herself slipping, her stomach aches disappearing; after a while, she didn't feel the sensation of hunger anymore, and she didn't feel thirsty either. After days without food, her body simply accepted that it was starving, and she spoke to Charon all the time, no longer burdened by her memories of the war against the Enclave. Because now - now that she was dehydrated, starving, and alone - she was convinced that Charon _was_ by her side, that everything was fine, that nothing in the world mattered apart from her venturing the wasteland alongside her deceased best friend. When Sandra was talking to Charon about Bryan's favorite Nukacola flavor, she stopped midsentence, seeing the city of Denver in the distance.

"Big city," she said, checking her Pip-Boy. "Still not showing up on the map, though."

In reality, her Pip-Boy was powered off, and she was staring into a blank screen rather than a map.

"What do you think?" Sandra asked, staring into the empty space where she invisioned Charon. "I think we should check it out."

"Suit yourself," she heard him say. "Don't blame me when you're wearing your ass for a hat, Mistress. Raiders like to do some fucked up shit to people..."

Sandra jogged down the hill, occasionally losing her balance and nearly falling. It didn't register that she was weak from hunger; all that mattered was the next adventure she and Charon would stumble upon, just like the good old days.

Along the road leading into the city, she spotted a small campsite. Four scavengers sat around a campfire, surrounded by collected goods that they'd looted from the nearby area; bags were overstuffed with scrap and pre-war foods, and on the ground were two assault rifles, a fat man, and the carcass of a hunted brahmin. The scavengers were cooking their meat over the fire and trading conversation. Suddenly, Sandra was tempted to rob them blind, the scent of tender brahmin meat alluring her like the song of a siren. When she raised her hand and reached for her gun, an exhausted breath escaped her, and Sandra fell face-first onto the concrete.

The scavengers turned their heads, examining her.

"We got us a live one," the leader said. It was a stocky, brown-haired man with a bearded jaw and a bearlike face. The big man marched over to Sandra and carried her to the campsite, gently laying her on his sleeping bag.

"Put me down, Charon... I'm fine..." Sandra moaned.

"Charon?" the big guy said. "I think yer a bit confused, lil' lady. My name's Hank."

Sandra blinked up at him, wanting more than anything to fall asleep.

On the other side, she saw Charon leaning over her as well. Charon was eyeballing Hank, but Hank didn't seem to notice Charon's presence at all.

"I'm not sharing my food with some random person," one of the scavengers snarled. "We're not taking on any more people, Hank. We can't afford to."

"Lookit her. She's on her last limb," Hank replied. "We couldn' just leave her, could we? We'll give her a bit to eat and send her on her way. Fair enough?"

Hank's three companions didn't argue with him.

So, Hank grabbed a brahmin-ka-bob and placed a hand on Sandra's back, helping her to sit up and placing the food in her hands. Sandra devoured it like a feral ghoul.

"I was right," Hank laughed. "She's hungry as hell."

"'Fanks," Sandra said between chews. "'Preciate it... thanks a lot..."

"Not a problem, lil' lady," Hank replied. "But you might wanna reconsider your travel plans. You don't wanna get anywhere near that city. We were camped a little closer a few days back, but we had to move. The dogs found us."

"Dogs...?" Sandra mumbled half-interestedly.

"Y'eap. They don't call it Dog City Denver for nothin'," Hank told her. "City's full of loot... but it's also full of dogs. Rabid dogs. They almost bit my ass off yesterday. We had to uproot and move away from the buildings. It's dangerous out there."

"Mm..." Sandra finished off her brahmin-ka-bob and licked the stick clean.

For the first time in what felt like years, her stomach was roaring with hunger again. When she looked around, Charon was nowhere to be seen.

"Water..." she said. "Please..."

"No," one of the scavengers - a skinny, sickly blonde - snapped at her. "We barely have enough water for ourselves. You're not getting any."

"She can have mine," Hank said, taking the canteen from his side and placing it in Sandra's hands.

Sandra upturned it and drank half the canteen before handing it back.

"You're a dumbass," the blonde yelled at Hank. "Why do you keep giving her stuff? We need our food and water! Fuck her!"

"Because I'm not a heartless ass-wipe, unlike the rest of y'all," Hank growled in response.

Hank reached his feet and jumped into a shouting match with his companions. As they argued, the dogs on Denver's outskirts perked their ears.

Sandra didn't care that they were arguing. She laid back on the sleeping bag, drifting asleep against her own will. Now, her body ached for more food, longed for more water. She felt the weight of her mortality returning to her, and she was almost certain that she'd die as soon as she closed her eyes... still... the idea of a long, peaceful sleep sounded wonderful right about now...

Hank and his companions didn't notice the pack of dogs marching out of the city - nor did they notice the crimson-clad army that was headed down the north road. Moments later, Hank raised his finger, motioning for his friends to hush, but none of them cared. They all continued screaming at him. The dogs drew closer. The Legion approached from the north; there must have been a hundred of them, all led by a dog-headed frumentarius.

Part of Sandra wanted to jolt fully awake, to do anything and everything she could to survive. Another part of her wanted to sleep... to shut her eyes and sleep forever...

 _Get up, Mistress._

"Fuck..." Sandra breathed. "I don't wanna..."

 _Yes you do. Get up. Now._

The dogs ran toward the scavenger and the Legion alike.

"Attack," the dog-headed frumentarius ordered his Legion. "Kill the animals and collect the profligates. Prepare your slave collars."

Many of the Legion warriors charged off to fight the dogs while the rest headed for Hank and his companions. The scavengers grabbed their weapons and ran across the street into battle. A bloodbath ensued.

The dog-headed frumentarius moved calmly through the battle, surveying the goods at the campsite. His eyes fell on the red-haired girl on the sleeping bag. She looked half-dead, but she was good stock. He took a slave collar from his belt and prepared to put it around her neck - then, a massive, patchy dog leaped onto Sandra's body, sinking its teeth into her leg, then her arm, then her stomach...

Sandra shot bolt upright, letting out a piercing scream.

Vulpes yanked the ripper from his side and forced it into the dog's skull. The blades zipped and shredded through the skin and bone, ripping the eyes from the skull of the dog. The dog yelped in pain, and Vulpes finished it off by dragging the ripper across its neck.

Sandra scrambled away, blood gushing from various parts of her. She stared up at Vulpes, wide-eyed and terrified.

"GO AWAY!" Sandra bellowed, raising her 44 magnum and firing three shots. Her hand trembled and her eyes refused to focus on her target; she couldn't aim. The shots missed Vulpes.

Hank and the scavvers fought the dogs and Legionaries across the street, and they were losing. It was difficult to tell whether the scavengers were losing to the Legion, or if the Legion was losing to the dogs. More rabid canines darted toward Sandra and Vulpes. The frumentarius grinned nastily at them, slashing his ripper and slaughtering the dogs with ease.

Sandra desperately crawled away, the sounds invading her thoughts, echoing in the back of her head. The screaming scavengers. The angry Legionaries. The yapping, snapping, foaming jaws of the dogs...

Her hands wrapped around the largest weapon within her reach. Sandra staggered to her feet, summoning the strength of Charon, Bryan, and her father, somehow mounting the fat man on her shoulder. Vulpes whipped around, his smile vanishing. He rushed at Sandra, hoping to stop her before-

 _Thwooo._

The fat man launched a mininuke over the street. The recoil wasn't much, but it was enough to make Sandra stumble backwards and drop the fat man. Before her was a magnificent explosion, blinding light, a shaking ground, limbs and blood flying amok... a hand coiled around her collar, steadying her upright before she could fall...

Sandra snapped her arms around Vulpes' head just in time; the force of the explosion caught up with them. Sandra's Pip-Boy shielded Vulpes' head; the screen shattered and the casing cracked. Both of them went flying, tumbling down the grassy hill. They hit a pile of rocks, Vulpes landing sprawled overtop of her.

Sandra lay unconscious amidst the rocks and rubble, her head oozing blood.

Vulpes stared at her for a while, each second extending into an eternity. This woman killed the others, killed the scavengers, killed his Legionaries... all on a whim...

"Fascinating," he whispered.

His eyes wandered down to her arm. The Pip-Boy was in shattered ruins; most of the casing was gone, as was the screen, leaving only a sleeve and bits of wires protruding from it. That device on her arm - she'd used it to shield him from the explosion. But why? Only moments ago, she was shooting at him. What made her want to protect him all the sudden?

Vulpes' body pulsated with pain, but he forced himself upright and marched up the hill with a limp, hoping to gauge the situation. As he expected, the battle was gone; all that remained was a gaping crater surrounded by the mangled body parts of his Legionaries, the Denver dogs, and the scavengers. A simple expedition to collect slaves had resorted to this... and all because of her. That girl - the girl lying half-dead on the sleeping bag - did this.

"She knew she wouldn't survive..." Vulpes muttered. "She wouldn't survive the dogs... and my Legion. She knew... so she..."

Vulpes stared at the smoldering crater for a moment, then headed down the hill and returned to Sandra. The girl was unconscious, wounded, and weak, but still breathing. Still alive.

Now, he'd have to make his way back to Caesar on his own. He'd have to explain how he lost an entire fleet of Legionaries, and he'd have to make a long trip across the wasteland by himself. Vulpes let out an angry sigh, storming down the road and preparing to make the long journey home.

He stopped.

Vulpes faced the girl again, a million thoughts racing through his mind. Would he leave her here? Would he take her back to the Legion in a slave collar? Would he slit her throat for slaughtering all of his Legionaries?

He stood stock still on the road for several minutes.

Then, Vulpes marched up to her, lifting her off the ground and carrying her off. The girl would make a good slave, he figured. She was stronger than most, and she wouldn't break under the oppression of the Legion like so many other women did. It made sense to salvage her from this otherwise pointless expedition.

For hours, he walked the road in silence as Sandra slept in his arms. When night began to fall, he stopped on the side of the road and removed his Legion gear, leaving only a tattered shirt and a worn pair of shorts. He'd have to trek through profligate territory in order to take the shortest route home, and he couldn't be wearing his Legion armor when he did. He lifted Sandra again and resumed his walk.

His leg ached and his muscles grew weaker, but he carried on.

It was midnight before he finally decided to stop again. Vulpes placed Sandra on the ground, and farther down the road, he spotted lights. Small, floating lanterns, carried by leather-armored guards. It was a profligate caravan, leading a wooden cart down the road. The cart was carrying at least five other profligates, and it was being pulled by two Brahmin. They were marching away, headed the same direction Vulpes had been.

Vulpes quickly lifted Sandra off the ground and speed-walked to catch up with the caravan. He'd ask them for a ride. He'd promise them payment, and when they let their guard down, he'd do away with them and take the cart for himself. He'd put the slave collar on Sandra and guide the cart to Caesar's camp. Yes. That was a good plan...

"Hey," Vulpes called out, making the guards spin around. "You all... where are you headed?"

"New Vegas," one of the guards replied. "What happened to you? You both look like you've been through hell."

"Yes," Vulpes agreed. "My friend, she... she's not doing well. Would you give us a ride? I'll pay you as soon as we get into town."

The guards grabbed the brahmins' ropes and yanked them to a stop. They spoke to the traveling profligates on the back of the cart, and then, one of the guards approached Vulpes.

"Alright, you can ride with us," the guard said. "How much can you pay us? I'm thinking about 50 caps. If you can't afford it, I'll be fine with 30."

Vulpes revealed a sick smile. "50 sounds just fine."

The guard helped Vulpes to lift Sandra into the carriage. Vulpes climbed in, and the caravan resumed its trip to Vegas.

The ride was quiet. Vulpes examined the passenger profligates, all of them wearing dirty rags, none of them armed. He looked to Sandra, wondering just how quickly he could snatch the combatshotgun from her back and murder everyone on this caravan. He'd wait for just the right moment. He'd shoot both of the guards in the back first and foremost, as they were the only two who were armed. Then, the rest of these profligates would become new slaves for Caesar's Legion. It was fool proof...

As time passed, the passengers began to fall asleep. Vulpes smiled. That would make it even easier to catch them by surprise.

When the last of the passengers fell asleep, Vulpes sprung into action. He yanked the shotgun from Sandra's body and opened fire. The first guard's head exploded into blood and tissue, and the second one jumped at the sound. Vulpes killed both of them before they could've hoped to fight back.

The passengers awoke in a screaming panic. Sandra didn't wake.

"Shut your worthless mouths!" Vulpes commanded, standing over them and pressing the gun into the nearest girl's forehead. "You all belong to Caesar's Legion now. Be grateful you didn't meet the same fate as your pitifully incompetent guards. Your lives actually have meaning now. Speak a prayer to Mars, you wretches. Thank him for your promotion."

The passengers huddled together, crying and whimpering.

Vulpes used one hand to keep the shotgun upright, reaching to his side with the other. His ripper was still on his person. He slipped it off his side and powered it on. The buzzing of the saw frightened the passengers even more. Vulpes laughed.

As he stood in the carriage, his gaze moved to the Mojave. The Vegas lights shone in the distance. He was dangerously close to the heart of enemy territory. It was time to move, to return to the Legion with his spoils.

Vulpes collected the guns from the dead guards. He stood before the cariage for a moment, hoping to draw up a plan. He only had one slave collar; he couldn't restrain all six of his prisoners with only one collar. So, he removed the ropes from the brahmin and tied them around the wrists of his captives. He connected all the ropes, keeping the slaves tied together in one long collection. None of them could run now.

He'd have to abandon the carriage. The brahmin wouldn't be able to pull it without the ropes.

Vulpes stared at Sandra, who was still sound asleep in the back of the carriage. He hadn't thought to tie her up. He'd neglected to put the slave collar on her.

The rest of the slaves were outside of the carriage now, all of them trying to stifle their sobs. Vulpes' eyes lingered on Sandra forever.

"Desperate to survive," he murmured. "I'm not sure I could keep you under wraps by myself."

Vulpes tossed Charon's shotgun into the carriage. It landed beside Sandra.

"Make something of your life, woman."

For the next five years, he carried out his Legion duties without question, never hesitating, never showing mercy. To this day, he didn't know why he left Sandra behind in that carriage. He didn't know why he spared her the fate of slavery, or why he'd decided against killing her. It was the only time during his serving of the Legion he'd ever shown any hint of mercy, and it would be the only instance of kindness he'd experience until the fall of Caesar.

He couldn't have known that he'd left the future ruler of New Vegas at the doorstep of her new empire.

* * *

"Wow..."

Sandra sat tiredly on the couch of her Freeside apartment, rubbing her neck where someone's laser had burned her. Vulpes was hunched into a recliner, his arms folded, his eyes refusing to meet anyone else's. Arcade was next to Sandra, listening intently until she finished her story about Denver.

"Now I understand..." Arcade said. "You two have a bit of history. Seems like you have a habit of crossing paths and saving each other's lives by accident."

"I didn't know what happened on that caravan," Sandra replied. "Not until Vulpes told me just now."

Vulpes grumbled under his breath. He had reluctantly filled in the gaps of her story, informing Arcade of everything that had happened while Sandra was unconscious.

"Awaiting judgment, doctor," Vulpes grumped. "Go on. Go on and tell me how wicked of a person I am for taking all those captives. I can't wait to hear it."

Arcade blinked at him. "That was five years ago. A lot has changed since then."

Sandra and Vulpes stared at him. Both of them expected Arcade to reply with a lecture about how evil slavery was, but he didn't seem interested in starting an argument.

"So that's what happened in Denver..." Arcade said. "That puts everything in perspective."

"Arcade..." Sandra muttered, leaning forward and observing him. "Are you... are you okay with this? With him being here..."

Arcade shifted his focus from Sandra to Vulpes.

"He's been by your side since I left," Arcade said. "I was almost positive that he wouldn't be around when I came to see you again. He surprised me."

Sandra and Vulpes watched Arcade closely, waiting for his answer.

"Well..." Arcade sighed. "I think we need all the allies we can get right now. So... if you think he's a good ally, I'll defer to your judgment, Sandra."

"You're staying with me, then, right?" Sandra smiled.

Arcade nodded.

Sandra wrapped her arms around him and trapped him in a hug.

"Come on," she said, standing upright and wincing at the stinging pain in her leg. She pulled Arcade to his feet. "We've got a lot to do now."

"Where are we going?" Arcade asked.

Sandra looked between Arcade and Vulpes.

"There's a storm coming," she said. "We've all gotta be ready when it does."

* * *

 **THE END**

To be continued in the third and final installment, _Clash of Two Wastelands_


	27. (Author's Notes)

Hi everyone! Thanks for sticking it through to the end even though it takes me forever to update. I'm sorry if the ending didn't seem all that exciting, but believe me, this is far from the end of Sandra's Mojave adventure.

Now - I feel the need to explain a few things. First of all, I recently became transient and I don't have a stable place to live. I work during the day, but it's a flea market job, so I'm not making enough to live on. I'm trying to make plans for the future and I'm working on original stories I plan to publish, which is why I rarely have the time to focus on fanfiction.

BUT, that doesn't mean fanfiction is unimportant to me. I simply don't have the time to focus on it as much as I'd like. Sandra's Fallout story works as great practice for me, namely because Sandra isn't just a fanfiction character. She's an original creation of mine, and she's the main character in my current project, a novel called Doomsday by Design. I'm in great need of beta readers for this project, and if you're interested in seeing more of Sandra - and more of her apocalyptic adventures - I'd love it if you read my book :D

If you haven't already, you should make an account on Inkitt. The site is full of fanfiction AND original works, and you can post writing of your own. This is the URL to Doomsday by Design on Inkitt (I'm sorry, I know it's a pain to type out, but links don't seem to work on ).

stories/adventure/83220?started_reading=true

Otherwise, you could just search for "Ginger" on Inkitt and you'll find me. My profile picture is me, ginger-haired and blue-eyed. My cover photo is a conglomeration of my art. Which reminds me - I do comics as well. If you'd like to read them, here's my Deviantart;

I'm really needing an audience for my stories. I know you're probably only here because you like Fallout, but if you like my writing style, then maybe you'll like my other works.

So, basically... thanks for reading. I'd love some feedback, and I'd REALLY love some readers on my other works. Stay tuned for the final installment of my Fallout trilogy, _Clash of Two Wastelands._ Peace!


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